Slaves to the Crown SYOC
by ReneFurterar0
Summary: Illéa was in flames, almost literally. All because three families thought they were the best to rule. When they finally managed to stop their wars on each other, they found a solution: The Selection. Each family would present a son to the Selection, the lots would be picked, and the ladies chosen would fight for something much more dangerous than love. (Full summary inside) (35/35)
1. Chapter One

**The Announcement**

 _Illéa was in flames, almost literally. All because three families thought they were the best to rule. When they finally managed to stop their wars on each other, they found a solution: The Selection._

 _Each family would present a son to the Selection, the lots would be picked, and the ladies chosen would fight for something much more dangerous than love. The first son to find a wife, one that was powerful, strong, and intelligent enough to be Queen, would secure their family's position at the top of the council. The other two sons would find wives as well, but their families would remain only as advisers to the 'Royal' family._

 _But this year, the competition is fiercer. Talks of rebellion to escape from the power-hunger families bent on ruling Illéa, are sweeping throughout the kingdom. And all three families will do anything to bring them down. Anything._

 **Earl Warren Schreave, 20 - Royal Adviser**

All three of the ruling families were gathered in one room, and the tension was unbelievable. We were all waiting for the official "Announcement" of the Selection, though everyone knew what was to happen. I had been preparing since I was born for the Selection, to save my family from another humiliating defeat. In fact, right now, on wooden thrones were the Illéa's, the winners of the Selection for the past four generations.

Their faces were stoic, their dark eyes searching the room, yet not landing on any single object or person. 'King' Axel and Queen Mirabelle, nicknamed Illéa's miracle by the tabloids, sat in the center of the thrones. The nineteen-year-old twin Princes, Lochlen and Octavian sat next to them in a row, and their faces matched the calm expression held by the rest of their family. But it was easy to see that they were both very tense, after all only one son from each family could be in the Selection.

And the twin who wasn't chosen would ultimately be turned away from their family, as the King and Queen, their own parents, were the ones who decided which twin would compete in the Selection. The rules were that if the family had multiple sons that were of age to compete in the Selection, the parents would decide who would compete based on looks, intelligence, and charisma. I found it almost sickening that looks were a major part of how we were chosen. I understood of the appeal for a good-looking King and Queen, but I also knew that the power of intelligence over matched the power of that certain appeal.

But if I could chose which of the twins I wanted to compete with, it would be Lochlen because of his poor charismatic skills. I could still remember the lessons we shared as young boys, Lochlen was bright without a doubt, but he lacked strong reasoning skills which ultimately backfired on him. But Octavian, even being a year younger than me, had always impressed me with his deductive skills. Ones that most definatly served him well as the Prince of Illéa. But I knew that my skill set was much more polished and perfected than the two of their's combined. Plus, appearances didn't really matter for the twins as they were almost identical. The same dark eyes and dark brown hair, the same features that all the Illéa siblings shared.

Every family had their physical genetic traits that they were known for. The Illéa's all had dark eyes, in shades ranging from dark blue to brown. Their hair usually in shades from light brown to dark, the current Illéa children sporting the darker hair of their mother's.

The Valencia's all had electric blue or green eyes that were strong and taunting in color. They also all shared hair so black that it almost seemed blue at times. They were always making a statement wherever they went.

My family, the Schreaves, were known for our dirty blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes. I, out of my immediate family of five, was the only member with blue eyes. My mother would occasionally tease me for looking out of place from the other members of my family, who held the usual dirty blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes. In contrast to my dirty blonde hair, which held a reddish tint at times, and ice blue eyes. My father said that I must have gotten my blue eyes from some long-lost relative, as almost everyone in the Schreave family held the same brown eyes.

I stopped thinking for a moment to look up at a door that led to the lower Advisers' rooms, which was slowly opening with a creak. The Illéa's and Schreave's heads shot to the door, the tension on a whole new level now. The Valencia's took their time, projecting their carefree image that hid their strong competitive sides. They had family strains as well, they had two sons that were of age for the Selection. Caspian, who was nineteen. And Nixon, whom was my age at twenty.

"Stand, Schreave family." A man in a stiff suit and a scruffy gray beard commanded. I mentally scoffed, _he won't treat my family or I that way when I become King._

But my family did as we were commanded, I felt a small hand close around my slightly calloused one. I looked down to see Gwendolyn, my thirteen year old sister. Her light golden blonde hair was pulled back in a pretty bun, her brown eyes were sparkling out of excitement. One dark blonde piece of hair was hanging out from the bun, most likely because of her habit of tugging on her hair. The piece of dark blonde hair was a sign that her usual golden blonde hair was turning darker, like the rest of my family. My hair had started out a shade of golden blonde as well, but it started to turn darker by the time I was fourteen.

"You can do it, Ren." She whispered to me, a small but excited grin plastered on her face. I squeezed her hand and tickled her palm as we did when she was younger. She giggled quietly but slipped her hand out of mine after the lower Adviser with the gray beard cleared his throat to begin talking.

"House Schreave, present your Candidate." He said simply, no kindness or respect lingering on his words.

My father, Hendrix, put a hand on my back, gently but urgently guiding me a few steps further. "I, Duke Hendrix of the Schreaves, present my eldest son and heir, Earl Warren Schreave as the Candidate from House Schreave."

The man nodded his head absentmindedly, but I could feel the eyes of my family and the other families piercing a hole in the back of my head. I stepped on to the silver metal platform at the back of the room and adjacent to the front, which was used simply to take pictures of the Candidates for the Selection. There was a difference between being a Candidate and a Selected. Only three out of the thirty-five Selected could "win," whilst only one of the Candidates could become King. And the Candidates were always Royals, whilst the Selected were commoners. The Illéa's won last year, the Valencia's coming in second place, and the Schreave's finishing in third. But don't get us Royals wrong, we want love. Though in the quickest way possible, which makes the Selection a very looked-forward to task.

"Stand, Valencia family," the man said, still not making an effort to be respectful to the family either. "House Valencia, present your Candidate."

The two sons lined up to each other, Caspian at 6'3 and Nixon at 6'4. The Valencia's were also known for their height, and towered over me at 5'11. The two shared a glance, the emotion unreadable. Then they straightened their spines, which probably made them at least an inch taller, and stared impeccably well at the beige wall in front of them. Their parents, Royal Adviser Zaire and Royal Adviser Odelia, shared a look of uncomfortable coolness.

Their father, Zaire, began. "I, Duke Zaire of the Valencia's, present my second eldest son and heir, Lord Caspian Valencia as the Candidate from House Valencia."

The shadow of a grin appeared on Caspian's face as he stepped forward with no encouragement other than his own. Nixon's eyes were full of rage and hatred towards his younger brother, but he stepped back with a warning look from his mother and father. In the court of the Illéa's, anger, tears, affection, and even the simplest emotions were signs of weakness. The Illéa's couldn't ban any of our families from their court, even the Royal family didn't have that kind of authority. But they sure as hell could play your emotions until you wanted to quit, which also wasn't an option.

The man with the gray beard turned away from the quiet turmoil that was the Valencia family and to the powerful, yet uneasy Illéa family. They were a bigger family than our's was, they had six members to our four. The King, Queen, the twin Princes, Prince Clinton who recently turned fifteen and was named after some old political family, then the ten year old Princess Adira. Adira was a kind girl, not yet effected by her family's expectations and treatments of others. She was friends with my sister, Gwen, and friendly to everyone including servants and guards. I almost felt bad about taking her title of "Princess" away from her...

"Please stand, Illéa Family."

 _Pleases_ , only reserved for those at the top. Because you aren't judged by your good deeds, but by your mistakes.

"House Illéa, please present your Candidate."

There was an uneasy silence in the room as the Illéa's stood up. Princess Adria had an excited look on her tanned face, which matched Gwen's from before. One would be lying if they said that the Princess' smile didn't ease some of the tension, but not enough to make the situation comfortable or less bearable.

As on instinct, I turned my head to Caspian Valencia. Who's electric and inquisitive blue eyes were studying the two twin Princes, sizing them up as competition. Everyone in the Illéan court knew Caspian Valencia as a sort of jokester. Very charismatic and everybody's best friend. It wouldn't be a surprise to many of the court when the Valencia Candidate was revealed as Caspian, who's friendly nature compared to his elder brother's tough and closed-off shell, was usually preferred. Many had also wondered if Caspian would actually take the Selection seriously, but based on the laser-focused gaze of his eyes, I knew that he would undoubtably put up a fight during the competition.

"I, King Axel of the Illéa's, present my..."

Now everyone was leaning in, expectantly. Lochlen and Octavian had uneasy looks on their faces, not bothering to hide the strain between the two brothers. Their bodies were still, if not leaning back slightly for the light touch of their father's hand on their back.

"Eldest son and heir, Prince Lochlen Illéa as the Candidate from House Illéa."

I had to fight to hide my grin, this competition would be easier than I thought.

 **(CcC)**

Hello readers! Welcome to the first chapter of my new story, Slaves to the Crown. This story is a SYOC, as you can probably tell already, and the Selection Form in on my profile. Everyone is allowed to submit four characters at the most, please submit them by PM (sorry Guests but I need to talk with you in private about your character), and I also take reservations for Provinces. Your character may be a One as long as you follow the rules on my profile. So happy submitting and I can't wait to see your characters!


	2. Chapter Two

**The Rules of the Game**

 **Lord Caspian Valencia, 19 - Royal Adviser**

When Prince Lochlen was chosen over Prince Octavian, I was confused.

Although it wasn't said out loud, everyone in the Illéan court knew that Prince Octavian was going to be chosen as the Candidate.

 _Yet, he wasn't._

The quiet and reserved boy who had a horrible stutter in his youth, was chosen over his slightly younger, well-spoken, considerably more good-looking, remotely smarter twin.

 _It just didn't make sense._

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Warren, the eldest of the Schreaves, attempting to hide a smile. I held back a chuckle, it took more than 80 years of losses to make the Schreave family think any less of themselves. They were all headstrong, rash, and full of themselves, frankly, it's no surprise to anyone who actually knew the Schreave family that they lost four times in a row.

For us Valencia's, we were taking our time, and as they say " _to be part of the game, you must first learn the game_." And we have always held up those words.

My family rose up, supported by the people of Illéa, to over-take the throne all those years ago. But then the Illéa's came back with full force, along with the military and support of foreign royalty. And the Schreave's, well, they were just the Schreaves. Only supported by the Twos and some Threes of Illéa, the only "real" power they held was history.

And so the battles continued, our families fought it out, until the economy dropped, the people started rioting because of military drafts, and somewhere in our dim little Royal minds, we realized that destroying our own country wouldn't help anyone. So our families banded together, or as much as we could without attempting to kill each other, and found a solution to find the true King of Illéa, what the world knows now as _The Selection_.

It was basic knowledge of course, everyone knew at least that part of the history of Illéa. From the dimmest Eight, to the egotistical Ones that took part of the Illéan court.

But the true meaning was that we experienced war, lots of it, and each family was supported by a different cause. It was clear now, that you couldn't bring any ruling family down without Illéa going down with them.

The flash of a camera suddenly brought me back into reality, I quickly realized that I had been drifting off lately, and it couldn't have been at a worst time.

"Sorry, I accidentally pressed the button." The cameraman mumbled into the camera's lens. I rolled my eyes at his pathetic effort, the Five obviously didn't understand exactly who he was dealing with.

Lochlen, who was standing on my left, pressed his lips together. He wasn't annoyed, but he obviously wanted to get the pictures over with as soon as possible. On my right, Warren was glaring at the camera, probably setting the cameraman on fire in his mind.

I took the time, whilst everyone was staring at the cameraman fumbling around for something, to lean over and whisper into Lochlen's ear.

"Well, look who we have here, the little Prince all grown up—" I chuckled quietly into his ear "—let's see how long that lasts. Before the little Prince has to go running behind mommy and Tavvy's backs."

Lochlen visibly tensed up, his eyes staring straight, but were wild with trying to find something to say. After a few seconds, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. A moment later, he opened them, and they were full of force and determination. He straightened his back, though his 6'0 frame was still shorter than mine, and brought an amused smile to his face, one that matched those of Octavian.

I frowned but leaned back up into my original position, Lochlen's false confidence wouldn't last long, it just didn't fit his more _gentle_ personality.

"Got it!" The cameraman cheered, holding a small gray circle, oblivious to the stony-faced Royals in the room. "Alright—" he steadied the camera and I flashed my best smile, with a slight smirk hanging off the end "—say Cheese!"

The second the camera flash passed, I dropped my smile and stared at the man, truly dumbfounded. Did he just ask us, _Royals_ , to ' _say Cheese_ '?

Even King Axel was clearly annoyed. There were two kinds of annoyed that came with King Axel, the kind that started a civil war, then the kind that meant someone was getting fired. But luckily this time seemed to be the latter.

King Axel waved off the cameraman, who was being led out the door by two guards. No one annoyed or upset the King and lived to tell the tale, or at least never saw the King again for that matter.

King Axel turned to face us, the Candidates, with a stoic expression.

"Congratulations, Candidates. You have been chosen for the Selection, I wish you all the best and hope that this year's Candidates are only the _best of us_." His words lingered on ' _best of us_ ,' which was immediately directed in my mind to Lochlen, who's eyebrows were contracted into a nervous shape.

 _Looks like that confidence is washed out like the rest of his personality_ , I thought in my head.

"You will join my council and I in a meeting with the Ambassador of England to Illéa, in thirty minutes. I expect everyone to be briefed on the matter of subject of discussion, and paperwork to be ready for signing." King Axel stated, getting right back to business after the frilly matter of the Selection was over. He nodded his head curtly to each family, at exception of his own, which it was implied that they follow him out of the room.

Lochlen looked relieved to get out of the room, and quickly followed his mother and father out of the room, without a second glance to Warren or I.

I raised my eyebrows at Lochlen's back, but took a step down from the silver platform, my hands in the pockets of my navy blue blazer. I walked over to my mother and father, immediately noticing Nixon's absence from their side.

 _Probably headed back to the Château_ , I thought, _drowning himself in drink to get over his misery_.

My mother, Odelia, stepped forward with an unusually sweet look on her face, but her brown eyes, which Nixon inherited, were still cold and ruthless. She put her hand on my shoulder and leaned into my ear, "I need you to grab my folder, the one I was working on this morning, for me. I would have a servant get it, but it's more _classified_ information."

I nodded my head, I knew which folder she was talking about, but what was in it, I had no idea. My family probably had more ' _classified_ ' information than all of the Illéan court combined.

I leisurely walked to the front oak door, turned the handle, walked out, then closed the door quietly behind me and set off down the hall.

* * *

I was on third floor of the Palace, in the left wing, which was where the Illéa's kept guests, when I heard a loud giggle echo off the walls.

A petite girl with dark brown hair and tanned olive skin emerged from down the hall, she was giggling and laughing while she was running down the halls. A man, or boy would sound more appropriate, with black hair was chasing after her with a playful expression. The pair were adorned in servants' uniforms, which made me raise an eyebrow at their antics, they obviously didn't care or take the time to think about if anyone was watching them.

 _Or maybe it's just love_ , a strange voice said dreamily in my head. But I ignored the voice and continued watching the couple.

The two servants were still running and chasing each other down the hall, laughing and having the time of their lives. But the male servant eventually caught up to the girl and wrapped his arms around her. She turned to face him, "come on, Ash," she giggled.

Suddenly, like a dark storm of clouds, I was pulled deep into a memory.

* * *

 _"Come on, Ash!" I laughed at her annoyed face._

 _"Cas," she whined, "help me down from here!"_

 _"Hey, it was your choice to climb the tree, you can get down by yourself." I argued playfully._

 _"Fine," she grumbled, pushing her dark brown hair out of her hazel eyes._

 _Those hazel eyes, the ones that captivated me the first time I looked at her. No matter what she did, I was always drawn back to those beautiful sparkling orbits._

 _"Okay... I'm ready..." She said slowly, lowering her bare foot down to a small curve in the tree. I moved closer to catch her if she fell. As much as I used to hate to admit it, I just couldn't see her hurt. With just one look, she blew away every mannerism and shield that my parents taught me in court, she was the one who taught me that it was okay to show my emotions. To love, to care, even to hate. It was what made us human._

 _"Careful, Ash," I warned. "Watch out for the—"_

 _"Whaaaa!" She screamed as she fell from the near top of the ten-foot tree._

 _"Oof!" I cried out when she fell on my chest, knocking me down._

 _But instead of getting up and apologizing quickly, we just laid there for a couple minutes. She was straddling my chest, her small hands pressing down on my upper-rib cage, catching her breath from the shock. I was laying down in the grass, my eyes closed, listening to our breathing patterns in sync. Her natural scent of garden flowers and cool mint mixed in with the smell of freshly cut grass, letting my body relax even with her sitting on my chest._

 _"Caspian?" She asked, worried, stroking my cheek with her thumb. "Are you alright?"_

 _I smirked, my eyes still closed, "well, with you here, I'm perfectly fine."_

 _"Yeah, says the one who got knocked to the ground by a flying girl." She remarked, I could just imagine her rolling her eyes at me._

 _"You can fly now? Why didn't you tell me this before?!" I joked, finally opening my eyes._

 _She rolled her eyes, but a small smile was playing at her full pink lips. She turned those amazing hazel orbits to look at my blue ones, which only seemed dull in comparison to her's._

 _"You have grass in your hair," she noted awkwardly. She lifted her hand from my cheek, her other hand balancing herself on my chest, and started to run her fingers through my hair. She slowly began to pull out little green grass pieces from my jet-black hair, which was currently very messy and reached a little below my ears. But I just enjoyed looking at her, my right hand was stroking her right kneecap, and I relaxed once more to take in all of her._

 _She turned her focus away from my hair and to my eyes, her face tinted pink. "Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked, the pink blush on her cheeks growing stronger with every second passing._

 _"You're beautiful," I noted simply._

 _"That isn't a good reason to stare at someone like a stalker," she rolled her eyes again, averting her gaze elsewhere._

 _"Well, m'lady, you are the one sitting on my chest. I don't really have anywhere else to look, not that I want anywhere else to look." I winked at her._

 _"Ha ha, Cas. Very funny." She said, sarcastically._

 _"Its been three hours, so far today. And you haven't tried to run away from me once!"_

 _"Caspian..."_

 _"Okay, once. But just once."_

 _"You stole my hat, you keep stealing my hat! Aren't you a Lord, or something? You probably have, like, forty hats in your closet right now!"_

 _I frowned playfully, "I think that you are mistaken, m'lady, I only have two hundred hats. There is a difference."_

 _She snorted, "yeah, I can see that."_

 _I smirked, "I hope you do. It did take me a long time to prove to you that I'm different from the rest of my family."_

 _She sighed, "can we not talk about family here. Please?"_

 _I grinned slyly, leaning forward, "sure, I know something we can do that doesn't involve family..."_

 _"Caspian!" She cried out, laughing, pushing her hands down on my chest and pressing me back into the grass._

 _I gave her an innocent look, "what? I just meant one simple kiss."_

 _She looked at me with a 'really?' expression, "Cas, we all know what 'one simple kiss' means to you."_

 _"Well, it means more when you are involved."_

 _Her momentarily toned-down blush sprouted up again, a smile slowly formed on her lips, the ones I wanted to kiss so badly, seemingly without her realizing it._

 _I took a deep breath, took her slightly dazed-out faze in my favor, and I leaned in to kiss her—_

* * *

"Caspian!"

The voice of my mother shocked me back into reality, I looked down at her, guiltily.

"Sorry, mother. It was... I was just caught up in a memory."

She scowled, "it was the Ronan girl again, wasn't it?"

I nodded, yet again. My breathing sharp, yet coming out in crumbling waves.

Even in memory form, she did what no other person could do to me.

My mother sighed and looked up at me, her 5'7 to my 6'3. "Follow me," she said simply.

I followed my mother to her workroom, which was just a door away from her and father's bedroom. She opened the white-wood door and I followed her into the room.

My mother never liked Nixon or I to look at her work, despite the fact that one of us was going to become King, or at least a Royal Adviser, a position that was reserved only for Valencia's, Schreaves, and Illéa's.

When I entered the room, it was almost entirely dark. My mother flipped the light switch on the wall, practically blinding me with the white light that emerged almost instantly from the modern lights hanging from the ceiling.

The room was fully adorned with several desks, papers hung up all along the four walls, a bookshelf filled with books on Illéan History and law was tucked in a corner, and a ceiling-high, wide shelf stuffed with binders and folders was the seeming center piece of the room.

My mother walked over to the shelf and pulled out a over-exaggeratedly large binder. Labeled: _**A.R.**_

I left the blood drain from my face as I recognized her initials.

My mother weighed the binder in her hands, as if she needed to make another metaphor out of my life.

 _"She is just a stone weighing you down, Caspian!"_

 _"Let go of all the pressure that she puts on you!"_

 _"Only then can you be free to fulfill your duty to the crown!"_

"She was all I ever needed..." I whispered to myself, the growing pain in my chest was increasing with every heart beat.

"What did you say, Caspian?" My mother asked, faking innocence, though I knew she had heard my words.

"Nothing," I muttered, "just wondering why you suddenly start actually acknowledging her ongoing presence in our lives?"

My mother's innocent look quickly disappeared in a swoop, leaving just a frown, "I have always acknowledged her... _presence_. And I seem to be the only one in this family who acts on it."

I scowled, "well maybe if you bothered to share your acts with this family, then—"

"Caspian!" She shouted, looking horrified that I would say such a thing. "Do you understand what your father would do if he found out about the girl?! In fact," she let out a chuckle with an almost insane look on her face, "you better hope to god that your own brother doesn't find out about this."

"Mother—"

"Caspian." She said scarily calm. The insane look on her face was gone, leaving all seriousness, but a tiny twinkle of insanity still rested in her eyes. "I have worked much too hard to get this family in its' current position for you to ruin it all because of some old flame that you had when you were young. I wanted you to see these files for yourself, that she is gone from your life forever. She has to be. She made you weak. The two of you lead different paths in life, you both would have never crossed paths in the first place if it was up to me, but it isn't. Whatever the both of you shared is over. It's time for you to finally accept that, Caspian."

My breathing had finally slowed down, but I could find myself to meet her eyes. Though my mother was right, Ash made me weak. And I loved her for it. But until I could find a way to fix all that happened, I had to play along.

So I straightened my spine, took a deep breath, and gave my mother the picturesque image of the perfect, cold King that she wanted me to become.

"I understand, mother. I must uphold the rules and laws of our family to gain victory," my mother nodded me on to continue, "but now, the meeting with Sir Winslow is of the most importance. We must take our leave from this situation to focus on the more important subjects at hand." I said picturesquely, though the words felt wrong and meaningless when I spoke them.

" _Correct_ ," my mother grinned, her voice sounding like a slimy, yet cunning snake.

* * *

All of the Royal family members entering the room were silent.

King Axel sat at the head of the table, the Queen was missing for this particular meeting, and with Prince Lochlen sitting at his direct horizontal right. A sign of power.

The Schreaves, Royal Advisers Hendrix, Angelica, and Warren, all sat on King Axel's left. A sign of... _lesser power_.

My family, consisting of my father, Zaire, my mother, Odelia, and I took our places on the right side of the King and his heir.

Once everyone was seated, paperwork pulled out, King Axel pressed the microphone to outside the meeting room. "Send them in," he commanded.

And just a second later, the metal doors opened, allowing a man with graying blonde hair and a tall girl with caramel skin and wavy dark brown hair to enter the room. The pair took their seats which were adjacent to King Axel and Lochlen, and both clear their throats to signal the start of the meeting.

King Axel began, "welcome Sir Winslow, we are all very glad to see that you could come to negotiate this meeting in place of King Lysander of England. You do know that we only mean to settle this matter peacefully, of course."

Sir Winslow smiled warmly, "without a doubt, my King. I assure you that King Lysander, my daughter, and I only want peace between our two Kingdoms."

King Axel raised an eyebrow, "so is this young woman your daughter?"

"Yes," Sir Winslow said proudly, "my daughter, Margarita Josephine Atlas."

"Marga is just fine," the girl said just as warmly as her father, smiling respectfully.

"Well, Marga, do tell, how old are you?" King Axel questioned.

"Twenty years, my King."

"Which would make you eligible for the Selection," King Axel added in, knowingly.

"Yes, my King." Marga blushed slightly, casting each Candidate, including myself, a slight nervous look.

"How many languages do you speak fluently, Marga?" The King continued his rather out-of-place questioning.

"English, as you can tell. Also three types of Filipino, Tagalog, Bisaya, and Ilonggo." Marga informed the King proudly, but still reserved in nature.

"And you have finished schooling?"

"I finished high school at fifteen, and I have very recently become a graduate of college in Diplomacy and International Public Affairs. I'm beginning to start my masters of International Relations, currently."

"Such a busy young woman, but just perfect for the Selection, you should be proud, Sir Winslow." King Axel remarked, but leaving Marga shocked at the Selection mention.

But I had to admit, King Axel knew how to shake up a meeting when he wanted to. He knew just how to distract the players enough to get them on his side.

This was just an example of how many of the people in Illéa were wrong. Many thought that my family, the Valencia's, were the only crazy, backstabbing family in the game. But in truth, we were just the ones that messed up hiding our tracks. The Illéa's and the Schreaves could be just as dangerous.

"Thank you, my King, that is very generous of you." Sir Winslow said politely, but I could tell that he knew something was up. "But we really should get back to the subject at hand. The marriage between Lady Gwendolyn Schreave of Illéa and Prince Tarquin of England."

Now this, was the real game changer.

I was shocked by the suggestion, of the apparent deal that was happening, when I was informed that this was a simple trade meeting.

But my parents, the King, nor the Schreaves seemed surprised by this announcement.

Well, except one Schreave.

Warren stood up and slammed his hands down on the table, "this was supposed to be a trade meeting," he growled. "Not the trade of a thirteen year old girl to a damm country!"

"Earl Warren, I'm sorry, I wasn't informed that you didn't know of the predicament." Sir Winslow tried to interlude and calm the Earl down.

"Well, you see, Sir Winslow, I was indeed not aware that this meeting was under the premise of marring a thirteen year old girl to a seventeen year old Prince." Warren said, dryly. He was suddenly calmer now, but no more serene.

"Only once she turns eighteen, my Lord." Sir Winslow said, bowing his head in respect.

Warren scowled, I was watching his parents struggling to find a way to calm the situation in the corner of my eye. But just when Warren opened his mouth to say something else, he was stopped by the commanding voice of a King.

"I think that this meeting has gone on long enough, it shall be continued in the morn of tomorrow, when we have gathered more appropriate subjects to discuss." King Axel spoke, more like commanded, to our families.

Marga, gave Warren a concerned look, but nodded her head and helped her father gather papers together. And without another word, the father-daughter team of diplomats left.

"Lochlen." King Axel commanded, getting up to leave the room, leaving just the Schreave and Valencia families left.

Our two families stared each other in the eyes, before Royal Adviser Angelica spoke up.

"We better get back on the drought problem in Bonita, Governor Tiffany Xian needs it by Wednesday." Royal Adviser Angelica said, while pulling out a stack of graphs, photos, and emails. She nodded to Warren and I, "you two are excused."

Warren angrily huffed, but quickly made his way out of the room. I bowed my head in respect to the Schreaves and my own family, before leisurely making my way out of the meeting room.

Once I got into the hallway, I looked around for Warren, but I couldn't find him. I shrugged and made my way down the hall, my hands tucked in the jacket of my navy blue suit. When I turned a corner, I finally saw Warren sitting in an armchair, his face in his hands, which were bunching up his hair rather painfully.

I felt a little jolt of guiltiness as I observed him, I was never really close with my own brother, Nixon. He had always made it clear that the crown came before family in his mind. I was just competition to Nix, not really anything else. And getting the House Valencia Candidacy definitely would not help our brotherly relationship.

But Warren had Gwendolyn, a sweet girl whom he actually formed a strong sibling bond with. He had every right to be protective of her. Hell, if I had a little sister, I would go to the ends of the Earth to keep her safe and with me. Not married off to some Prince of wherever that was four years older than her and someone that she barely knew.

But I did, _used to_ , have Ash. She was everything to me. She was my world. My escape. I guessed that I could relate to Warren in that way.

"Hey..." I approached Warren, carefully. "Well, that meeting didn't go as planned." I said jokingly, cracking a smile.

"Why are you talking to me." He responded, annoyed. His words weren't a question, they were an order to 'get out of his way'.

"Sorry," I muttered. We were definitely getting off on the wrong foot, despite knowing each other for pretty much our entire lives.

Warren sighed and reached into the pocket of his stark-black blazer, pulling out an expensive-looking ballpoint pen, then standing up and beginning to walk away.

"Wait," I ask him quickly, "where are you going?"

He shrugs with a nonchalant expression, "Emma," he says simply. Then he just walks away and leaves.

Leaving me alone, like everyone else, with nothing but my thoughts and memories to cling on to.

* * *

 **This has been another chapter of my Slaves to the Crown SYOC and let me tell you, the feedback has been amazing! Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter of the story, and thanks to** Sora Kalopsia **,** Fandomnation12 **,** drakel19088 **,** ChillyIce **,** Silvertrue **,** Middle Sister **,** **and** morethanjustastory **for reviewing! Thank you to everyone who has submitted characters so far, they are all so creative and I can't wait for them to enter this story world. Margarita Josephine Atlas and her father are both characters created by** TheGirlWithTheRainbowTattoo **,** **and I hope to get the Selection started in 2-3 more chapters, so please continue submitting!**

 **~'Till next time,**

 **Renée**


	3. Chapter Three

**Quiet Isn't Always The Answer**

 **Prince Lochlen Illéa, 19 - Crown Prince of Illéa**

I swung open the door of my bedroom with a lost look on my face, and I stepped into my room in the Royal House. The Royal House was separated from the rest of the Palace, and unlike the century-old Palace, the Royal House was modern and still relatively new.

I quickly shut my sleek gray bedroom door behind me, courtesy of my mother's insistence to redecorate when she came into power, and trudged over to my bed. Not caring for my cleanly pressed suit, I let my body fall onto the silken sheets.

I turned over so my head was facing the ceiling, my conscience swiping madly at my thoughts about today.

 _First, I was Selected as a Candidate in a game that I never wanted to play in the first place._

 _Second, I let my father treat me like the son he never wanted,_ again.

 _And lastly, I'm the reason that a thirteen-year-old girl is being prepared to be shipped off to another continent, to be married to someone she hadn't met once._

It was my greatest shame to say... I had stupidly suggested that a _marriage bond_ would help mend the severed ties between England and Illéa.

I proposed the idea two weeks ago, in an attempt to show my father I was worth something. That I was not the ' _huge, disappointing_ son' which he constantly painted me to be.

I had implied that some teenaged Baroness or Countess would be offered the chance to marry off into the English Royal Family. I would constantly see groups of them when my father held Court, always giggling to each other, sending flirty glances to Lord Caspian Valencia and my brother, Octavian. The two most " _open_ " men in Court.

I'm sure that Caspian would have been perfectly fine with taking any number of them to his bed. But my brother, forever, _unfailingly_ , kept his distance from those ladies. Never giving them more than a recognizing grin or a smirk in return, but it was never enough to "satisfy" their needs.

I'm sure he would get much more attention than I would when my Candidacy was revealed. Mothers and Fathers desperate for the favored Illéa son to take heed of them and their daughters, desperate to secure their daughter's future position in Court.

After all, there was no greater honor in the Illéan Court, in all of Political Illéa, to marry a Royal Son or Daughter.

But of course with the Selection, the tides could change very quickly. A family ruling for eighty years could just as easily be disengaged from the throne by a family who had previously ruled for none. A sadistic reminder of how quickly power can change in Illéa.

Anyways, a Royal marriage to Prince Tarquin of England, not a Crown Prince but a strong, steady position promised for their daughter, would be much more safe for a family in the Illéan Court.

There would be no better offer. Every family from the Harrods to the Garbert-Smithe's, from the Waterbury's to the Sheridan's, any of them would be fools not to accept. They all had daughters, Lady Adelia Harrod, Countess Colleen Garbert-Smithe, Baroness Temperance Waterbury, and Lady Chantal Sheridan. All exceedingly beautiful, all four trained from birth to join with members of the Royal Family in Holy Matrimony, also my top candidates for the Marriage Bond with England.

But instead, my father ignored the ladies I had presented to him, and chose to take my idea in hand to make an attempt to put the cocky Schreave Family in their places. By selling off their youngest child and only daughter. I couldn't even blame Earl Warren Schreave for his reaction.

Then there was poor Sir Winslow Atlas, tricked into thinking that the topic had been thoroughly discussed and agreed upon. But I saw what rested in his eyes when he opened the file, he didn't agree with the "deal" either. Nor did Marga, his daughter. But it was their job, and as close as Sir Winslow was with King Lysander of England, he did not have the authority to change one of the biggest political decisions to occur in a little less than a century. Though as close and friendly as the King and Diplomat were, they did not have to fully agree on everything.

But still, I knew that I could never look any member of the Schreave family in the eye again, especially Warren, who might physically kill me if he discovered my part in the Marriage Bond.

However, I knew that all secrets came out eventually. I could only rid the day my own came out to the world, well, at least only to the Illéan Court, when my father got to the job.

I had just began to recover from my thoughts, my bronze-colored eyes drooping closed, when a loud knock on my bedroom slammed me back awake. I stifled a loud groan, pushing myself to take a deep breath instead. It took everything I had to push myself up from the bed, which was calling me back in a lover's tone. I went to open the door, making the quick movement to slide the lock from under the small, yet sturdy bolt and have the lock tilted upwards, allowing the door to slide open in a quick pull. Revealing my father's butler, Alden.

Alden was my father's newest butler, and far younger than the past others had been. He looked to be only about five to six years my senior, though already with thinning chestnut brown hair and dull blue eyes. Alden was also slightly annoying, as my father preferred his butlers to be for some strange reason. Constantly on my underfoot, and if my father wasn't present enough to do so, Alden was often telling me about how Octavian could have done so much better at everything I attempted.

Alden stiffed himself up, "King Axel wishes to meet with you."

I gave him a gelid look, knowing exactly what my father wanted. "Lead the way."

* * *

The butler left me in front of the cream-colored door to my father's office, its brass handle shiny and recently polished, by the look of it.

I did a quick swipe of the hall with my eyes, as I put my tanned hand on the brassy door handle. The King's office was the most important room in the Angeles Palace, only the King and his heir were allowed to enter. No one else, not even the Queen, was permitted even just a glimpse. Once making sure the hallway was clear of servants and nobles alike, I deemed it safe to open the door.

But the second the door cracked open, the harsh smell of Irish whiskey hit me hard in the face. I didn't wince, despite the clinging smell in the air that was burning my eyes, I was used to walking into my father during his... _defiantly_ too many drinking sessions.

 _What would Illéa do if they found out that their King was actually a constant drunkard?_

" _Boy_ ," my father croaked out once he saw me enter the room, his drunken state transparently clear, " _come here_."

After closing the door to his office quietly, I wearily trudged over to my father, recognizing the glazed-over look in his darting blue eyes. That was the thing I never got about my genetical relationship with my parents, they both owned bright blue eyes, the eyes that none of my siblings inherited. We all got dark and light brown eyes. Which was always strange to me, though our parents had reassured my siblings and I that we had just inherited other family traits.

"Yes, father? You called?" I spoke quietly, watching my words with him. Whenever my father was drunk, he was either directly sleepy, worked until he tired himself to a coma-like sleep, became violent and destructive, or a mix of any of the possibilities. So one had to watch out for his many drunken mood swings.

"Those... devilish creatures calling themselves ' _Rebels_ ' are back at it again. I don't know how long I can keep it a secret." He growled, his lips still glossed and wet with whiskey residue as he took another swing from the bottle wrapped in dark brown packaging paper.

"From who to keep the secret from, this time?" I inquired, taking my seat at his right and glancing at the strewn around papers. I had always believed that Illéa had a right to know about what was going on in its government, that just because we were Royals didn't mean that we had a right to hide the inner-workings of Illéan politics from the public. I also didn't believe in the Illéan Caste System, the one practically holding Illéan citizens hostage in its divided grasps. But if I were ever to speak my opinion aloud, to anyone, I would immediately be branded as one of those " _dreaded, damm_ Rebels" and would be quickly incarcerated. In fact, shunning my Royal status, I should count myself lucky if I wasn't immediately sentenced to death for just the thought of disbanded the Caste System.

" _Illéa,_ the _court_ , the _dammed_ Valencias and Schreaves, the entire _world_..." The supposedly great King of Illéa, Axel Illéa, snarled seemingly more to himself than to his own son.

That was the sad truth of the " _great_ " and " _powerful_ " country of Illéa, it was slowly being dismantled from the inside, with its own King unable to stop it, and most of Illéa not even knowing of the broken state its government was resting in. The group even included the Valencias and the Schreaves, and the only way for that not it be illegal was for my father to tell at least one member from each family what was really happening on under the Illéan family rule.

And that's exactly what my father did. I had absolutely no idea who the Secret-Keeper of the Schreaves was, but I had a stinking suspicion that the Valencia Secret-Keeper was no other than Royal Adviser and Duchess Odelia Valencia. A woman who I am pretty sure spawned in the depths of Hell and crawled up just to destroy every other girl in her Selection, only to capture the heart of the _Second-Placed_ Candidate in the Selection.

It was never clear to me where the Duchess Odelia Valencia had placed her heart, her own love. I could see that Royal Adviser and Duke Zaire Valencia was in truly love with his beautifully cold wife, but his love never seemed to be entirely returned.

Perhaps Duchess Odelia did once gave her love to her deceased parents, to her departed younger brother. It was quite the story in Illéa during her Selection, the daughter of two business moguls, whose house was burned to the ground in a freak accident. Killing the patriarch and matriarch of the family, Exeter and Kathrynne Rowe, then leaving the youngest child and only son, the seven-year-old Tybalt, alive but brain dead. The only survivor being Odelia Rowe, only twelve at the time, who was visiting a friend during the incident.

But it seemed that the young Odelia Rowe was long gone, the teary-eyed girl with limp brown hair and dark brown eyes on the video that my father had showed me was no more. Now the face of what the perfect Valencia family member should be, despite not being a Valencia by blood.

 _That woman chilled me to the bone._

"Someday, father," I warned with a low voice. "Someday that information is going to come out to all of Illéa, no ruler will ever be able to handle the outcome. The reaction of the people."

"Then let the people of Illéa lacerate themselves," he gnarred tempestuously, his face set in an almost permanent snarl.

"Father—"

"No!" He vociferated, slamming his whiskey bottle down on the table. I heard a loud crack, the small amount of leftover whiskey spilling out onto the slick, steel table. "I am the King of Illéa! I should be respected, looked up to, admired by all! Not thrown in a corner like I am nothing!" He yelled, throwing his hands in the air madly. I sucked in a loud breath and my heart started pumping faster when a large, deep cut on the inside of his hand appeared in the spot where he previously held the now-cracked whiskey bottle.

"Father," I said breathily. "You have to calm down, _breathe_ , think about what you are saying. You are King Axel of Illéa, the most powerful and paramount man in the west. You are meant to be King. There is no one else but you."

Slowly but surely, my father nodded his head, languidly succumbing to the tiring wishes of the alcohol running through his body. Leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes, murmuring about the ' _omnipotent_ _King_ ' he was.

I sighed as well, closing my eyes and wishing for my body to stop its trembling. Before my father was flat-out drunk, he had the right motives to call for me. I was always the peacekeeper in our family, ever since the beginning. Helping my father during his drinking sessions, stopping him from making partial decisions because of his own alcoholism. Protecting Clinton, my brother who I admired for his nonchalant but quiet friendliness; more like my own, from my father's crude remarks that were usually reserved for me. Then there was always simply solving a small dispute between Gwendolyn and Adira, the ones my father always hoped would break their friendship, him not believing that Adira should devote any time into forming a friendship with a Schreave.

But Gwen was a very amiable girl, a perfect young friend for Adira. And it was hard for Adira to make friends around her age, there being a lack of children in Court, though Adira still tried to seem more adult when socializing. Then since Gwen lived in Lakedon Castle, visiting Court about every two weeks, only staying for three to four days, I could guess that the friend problem was mutual. Thus, the two dynasts were the irrefutable pair.

"You should get back to your bedroom, father. It's been a long day, with the Selection and such." I sedately suggested to my father's succumbing figure. I gave him a moment to decide whether to leave the room or not, whilst collecting papers together and filing them back in their correct shelves and places. Personally, I was pushing for him to go back to his private bedroom in the Royal House, it wouldn't look good for the King to wake up obviously hungover in his own office. The place where many of the most important decisions in Illéa were made. It would be better for him to have a late morning in his own room, probably spending the night separate from my mother, and take some aspirin from the box he kept in the back of his closet when he woke up. I knew of the place where he hid his personal medicine, because I had previously been commanded to fetch the pills for him. What my father learnt quickly when he was put in office, was to never fully trust a servant. It seemed that many members of the Court forgot to realize that even Sixes had mouths, ears, and opinions, as well.

"I—I'm going back to my room," my father asserted, with ostensibly less confidence than usual. He stood up and looked me straight in the eye, his injured hand shaking from the pain that was probably partly numbed from the alcohol. He then grabbed the partially-broken whiskey bottle with his uninjured hand, its brown packaging paper stained with splotches of foul-smelling aqua vitae. "Turn around," he commanded with more force.

I did what he told me, not questioning the strange behavior that came out of his alcoholism. Waiting for a couple of moments, I heard a odd shifting sound, accompanied with loud screeches that reminded me of nails of a chalkboard, making me wince. But when the abnormal sounds stopped suddenly, I released the tension in my shoulders, slowly turning around. But when I looked to where my father was previously, he was gone.

This had been going on for quite a time now, only I knew about it, my father randomly or suddenly disappearing. I had many guesses to what happened, the first being that there was possibly some secret tunnels running throughout the Palace. But I had never seen any tunnels, found a single sign that my speculations might be true, or gotten my father to say anything about his strange disappearances. So I had nothing to support my theory.

Taking the thought, I walked over to the wall of eggshell-white plaster, placing a tanned, olive hand gently on the rough plaster. Feeling no movement, I began increasing pressure and pushed harder on the wall. But the wall... remained a wall. Dull and undecorated, staring me back in the face with its unclear meanings.

I sighed, letting the hand drift gracefully down the wall, barely touching, and down to my side. I straightened my shoulders, glancing at a clock that was sitting on my father's unoccupied desk. Reading the time I realized that it was much past dinner and everyone must now be settling down in their rooms.

Hence, I pulled myself away from the wall, then ambled over to my father's office door. I tentatively pressed an ear to the door, listening for sounds of movement. Hearing none, I hesitatingly opened the door, but quickly closed it shut as quietly as I could.

Shaking my tentative behavior from my shoulders, I turned to walk down the hall.

* * *

"Loch!" I heard a young voice squeal behind me.

Recognizing Adira's high pitched voice, I turned around with a big smile. "Adri!" I took her hand as she ran up to me, squatting down so our faces met. "What are you doing up this late? Shouldn't you be in bed, by now?"

She pouted her lips, her carefully brushed chocolate brown hair from this morning was falling messily in front of her light brown eyes. "But Cecile said I could stay up," she argued, pointing to the direction where her nursemaid, Cecile Winstanley must be coming through.

"No I didn't," Cecile said, coming around the corner, smirking knowingly. Cecile was holding a small basket, full of papers and crayons it seemed. Her dark brown hair was tied back in a low ponytail, her onyx eyes sparkling with a sign of amusement, the woman in her late-thirties only showing the first signs of aging.

Adira tried to defend herself, "Wait. I think it was Lacey who said Gwen and I could stay up."

"Nope, I didn't either." Lacey Wolfhard remarked, turning down the corner towards our group, holding the hand of her young blond ward, Gwen. The nursemaid's dark brown hair was tied up in a bun, her light brown eyes watching the slightly disappointed face of Gwendolyn Schreave with a twinkle of laughter.

"Well, I think the secret's out, Adri." I smiled gently at her, my thumb brushing her soft, tanned cheek. "Maybe tomorrow. But let's get you and Gwen to bed, first. It's been a long day."

She languidly nodded her head, taking her free hand to brush her messy brown hair behind her ears. "Okay, but can Gwen sleep over in my room tonight?" She asked hopefully. I turned to look at Gwen, who was straightening herself up.

"Only if it's okay with Lacey," I bargained, standing up.

The pair of girls eagerly turned their nodding heads to Lacey, who laughed softly. "I'm fine with it, but as long as they don't stay up all night talking and playing."

"Yes!" The pair cheered in unison, Adira leaving my side to go hug Lacey's legs.

Lacey laughed, straightening herself to stop from falling over, putting a tender hand on each of their heads. "Alright, that's enough. Let's get you two, to bed." She looked up at me with a gentle smile," but first say goodnight to Lochlen."

I also chuckled when the two girls came dashing to my side, hugging my legs as well, murmuring "goodnight, Loch" as they giggled excitedly, and said their thank you's. "Goodnight to you both, as well." I said cheerfully, squatting down once more. "I'll see you both in the morning."

The pair hugged me one more time, then raced to their separate nursemaids, grabbing them each by the hand and practically dragging the two down the hallway.

I laughed softly again, admiring the young dynasts for their true friendship. What I especially loved about the two friends, was that they could make an situation better. At least in the emotional sense, you could always count on Adira and Gwen leaving you in a good mood after an encounter.

Still feeling the warmth of Adira's hand in my own, I stood up from the squat, the pain which the stretch caused was slowly spreading throughout my body. I shook the pain from my legs, rolling my ankles slightly. Glancing back at where Adira and Gwen disappeared, I smiled benevolently.

There was more to what those girls taught me, more than smiling and looking nice. They taught me that I could choose whether I wanted to let my father degrade me, let him tell me that I was the worse son he could possibly have. Or not care about what his cruddy image of me was and move on, be happy.

 _Guess what, father. I choose happiness._

* * *

 **And that was Chapter Three! I wrote the entire thing over the course of three days, suddenly getting random splurges of ideas. Probably from listening to the Hamilton soundtrack over and over again, I'm completely _OBSESSED_ (and very satisfied, lol) with "Burn" right now. Philippa Soo (she plays Eliza Hamilton (née Schuyler) in the musical) is an absolute Goddess, her emotion during the song was so real and I literally cried my eyes out. Again, probably why this chapter is a little more on the depressing side at points. My friend Emily (who I randomly found out liked Hamilton, as well) and I just spend all of our Science Class, which we have together, talking about how Alexander Hamilton was a huge jerk to Eliza but he was also really amazing and sassy at all other times (though he was definitely a bit of a bully to Aaron Burr at many points). Then we talk about this guy in our class who's last name _is_ "Hamilton," and wonder if he's actually related to the Alexander Hamilton (we went up to him once and asked, he said: "who the * _expletive_ * is Alexander Hamilton?!") ...It didn't end well... But Author's Notes are pretty much the only time when I can rant on about whatever I want and no one can say directly to my face: "Shut up already, Renée!" or my personal _favorite_ : "What's that I hear? Oh yeah! It's the sound of me not caring." So thank you for all staying with me with throughout all my rants (and for the future ones to come;).**

 **But back to the story! A big thank you to** Berrybush123 **,** ryaspirt **,** UltimateMaxericaShipper **,** L.C. Carraway **,** ChillyIce **,** MastaGamerita **,** morethanjustastory **,** Cookiedoodles168 **,** Guest **(I'm assuming** Fandomnation12 **but correct me if I'm wrong),** TheGirlWithTheRainbowTattoo **,** 4Love4Love4 **,** GreenWithAwesome **, and** valentina's sorrows **for reviewing! That's fourteen reviews! In fact, I'm buzzing with excitement just rereading all of the amazingly positive reviews you all left. I'm still widely open to constructive criticism, please do give me some if you notice anything because it greatly helps with improving my writing skills. But all the love and support in just the first two chapters is what is really giving me drive to keep writing and come up with new ideas! So please do review for this chapter, and tell me what you think.**

 **Story Questions:**

 ** _How did you like Lochlen's POV?_**

 ** _What do you think is possibly coming out of the "Marriage Bond"?_**

 ** _Finally, what do you think is going on in relation to King Axel, with his drunkenness and strange behavior?_**

 **~Till' next time,**

 ** _Renée_**


	4. Chapter Four

**Letters**

 **Earl Warren Schreave - Royal Adviser**

I woke up very groggy, this morning. I had read somewhere that the reason people wake up tired was because they were thinking too much during their sleep. It may not be true, I couldn't even remember where I had read the passage, but it was definitely true for me, today.

Running a hand through my disheveled dirty blond hair, I forced myself from the olive green and ivory white sheets. My bare feet stepped onto the smooth, light chocolate coloured wood floor. My room in the Angeles Palace was rather plain, no decor or anything other than the necessities for a bedroom. Just how I like it.

I was never one for frilly things, no decorations, no going the extra mile. I had my way of doing things, and that was that.

Attempting to rub the sleep out of my eyes, I went over to the thick ivory curtains that were blocking the light from my windows from entering the room. I threw open the curtains, staggering in my arms slightly from the weight for the curtains, and being momentarily blinded from the sudden light. I could guess the light was a bit blocked from the one-way window, put in so Nobles and Royals could enjoy the view of the outside-Palace, whilst not have to worry about paparazzi and their loud, flashing cameras.

Once deciding that I was awake enough, the light extinguishing the sleep from my eyes, I went to my closet. I slipped off my gray nightshirt, and exchanged it for a dark blue suit. Only when the familiar stiff cuffs were around my wrists, did I feel fully awake.

I stepped out of my closet and glanced at my desk, a long, sleek grey thing, with drawers to go on for miles. Designed specifically for us Nobles. And sitting on the desk, with its creamy paper tinted with my signature woodsy and pine scent. I walked over to the desk, taking a seat in the cold, metal chair. Then I lifted up the letter, well more of a blank piece of paper that my thoughts had not yet reached.

I laid the stiff, creamy coloured paper back down on the desk, taking the delicately designed pen that previously laid next to the paper in hand. Closing my eyes, I let out a breathy sigh, then opened them and began to write.

* * *

" _My Dearest Emma,_

 _I write to you now with holes in my heart. I don't feel broken, or lost, or as if I am missing some part of myself; yet I still feel sadness._

 _One of my own family members will potentially be taken away from me, (you do remember our nickname for her? My young Belle). She is much too young and innocent to be engaged in such matters of relations, of which I am not permitted to share with you, despite our privacy. My young Belle, so energetic, guiltless, and pure. She is in no way naïve with her surroundings, soon enough she will figure out her cruelly planed future, from which her credulous and benign world will be fully disrupted._

 _The world we are placed in is cruel enough, but one would think that even a tyrannical overpower might spare a young girl from its wrath? It seems silly to many, with my observations and loud mouth on the page, but when it comes to family, to not do anything to protect the ones you love is like betrayal. Is it not? When I heard the news myself, I felt betrayal. Though the deliverer was not one of my own kin, there my relations sat next to me, with no image of pain or worry on their faces. I guess, in a way, I do feel broken. Like something was ripped from under me, far without my consent. Was that possibly how my relations felt? That the world was ripped out from under them? Or were they so accustomed to the pain, that they felt none? Is that a betrayal in its own right? To not feel pain. A betrayal to your kin, as well as yourself?_

 _I do not wish anyone suffering, pain, or misery. But wish that I knew why. Why, my young Belle? Why were you of people chosen? It couldn't possibly be of my own personal actions, could it? And here I am once more, babbling to you, my dearest Emma._

 _Whilst you tell me exhilarating and rousing stories of your personal life, I tell you of my burdening misery. I must be such a bore to you, with my tedious complaints of my home life. Oh, how do you put up with me? I live for your stories of baking and cooking mishaps, your beautiful and occasionally comedic poetry, your dream wedding with the sky-high chocolate cake, your strong hate of lollipops, even your fear of ducks (the reason was an enchanting story, I promise you), and I will always remember when wrote me about your embarrassing first date. I couldn't leave my room for hours, the laughs and imagining my fictional picture of you (which, I promise, is nothing compared to the magic you write on the page) in such a situation, taking over my mind. I swear to you, my dearest Emma, if we ever meet off the paper, I shall take you on a much better date than yours with that brood of a man. As many times as you deny in your letters that someone as "awkward" as yourself doesn't belong in a distinguishing society such as our own, I say that anyone would be so entirely lucky to be in company as fine as yours._

 _See, here I go again. I bramble about, edging for something other than a compliment of yourself, or a complaint from myself of my own likely exaggeratedly horrible home life (which, I assure you, I am grateful for, however irksome it may be)._

 _But have I ever told you the story of how I was once locked in a wall? Because I have been, and it was most terrifying for my younger self. The story goes like this: I was a young boy, maybe ten or eleven, but before we started writing to each other. It was a normal, average day, I had just finished my lessons and was heading back to my room (being homeschooled has its holdbacks, but at least your bedroom is right around the corner). But suddenly, I slipped, being my clumsy ten-year-old self it was unavoidable. And somehow, someway, I ended up behind the wall. To this day, I still have no idea how I got behind that wall, only that it was one of the scariest experiences of my childhood._

 _Behind the wall, it was like a passage, but much to small and narrow for a fully-grown adult to get through. I went wandering around, I swear that the thought of my own death behind those walls came into mind once or twice, but found no exit. I admit it now, though never to anyone else, after finding no way out, I sat down in one of the unrecognizable passages for hours after hours, crying and crying. About how I'd never get out of behind the wall. Until, I spotted an air vent._

 _I hoisted myself up to the ceiling using gaps in the wall, it was probably less of an effort as my young mind made it out to be, considering the low ceiling and my short stature at the time. But once I got to the vent, I managed to pry it open using a stray iron nail that I had found, and barely managed to fit in the vent tunnel as that. But I crawled though the vent, and dropped myself in the middle of a hallway, scaring the life out of a passing maid._

 _At my house, I had maids whilst growing up. Is that unusual?_

 _But I never did get in trouble for my frolic behind the literal house walls, I had never told anyone, besides you now, either._

 _But for the rest of my childhood years, I had prided myself on that, my one interesting accomplishment. Other than my test grades, astuteness, and sky-high IQ, I had nothing else to live for besides studying more and breaking my own intelligence records. I've told you this before, but I feel that it is less that I complement myself constantly, instead I only want to find a part of me to safeguard and keep to myself._

 _Still, I yearn to hear and read more of your stories about your own life, however embarrassing they may be. Though I may that be able to respond as quickly, as I've informed you previously in my last letter to you, I have an event going on for the next couple months. I will still receive your letters on time, and will attempt to write back as much as possible. Writing with this wonderful pen that you generously gifted me._

 _But until my next letter, I send this with my best regards._

 _~ Stephan_

 _(P.S. Did you enjoy the copy of_ Station Eleven _by_ Emily St. John Mandel _that I sent you? I enjoyed reading the novel, and I hope you did as well.)"_

* * *

I finished writing, setting down the pen. I scanned over the letter, looking for spelling and grammar mistakes, or any sign that I have clue to any part of my actual life. I signed off with my pen name 'Stephan,' my alias for my real name, because 'Emma' undoubtedly knew about Earl Warren Schreave, the great heir of the powerful House Schreave, so it was too much of a risk to take.

I had been writing to 'Emma' since I was eleven, the letter exchange presented as a strange gift from my grandmother, the Grand Duchess Philippa, or Pippa, Schreave. From then on, every two weeks or so, I would write to 'Emma' and she would write back, exchanging letters on our lives and special moments.

Pippa, my grandmother, had always been one of my favourite family members. With her dirty blonde hair and emerald green eyes, she was exceptionally beautiful. But she was in fact not the Favourite during her own Selection, a title that the tabloids crowned to a certain girl in the Elite each year that the Selection came around, though definitely well-liked enough for to be chosen by my grandfather, the Grand Duke Terence Schreave. Pippa was easily one of the most liked Royals in her generation, and currently was always greeted with great fanfare whenever she entered a room.

I would say that Gwen took after Pippa the most, as my father always compared me to the strongly-worded Terence. Which, or course, I accepted proudly.

Finally sealing the envelope on the letter, I wrote down 'Emma's' address in the centre, the return address was the private one of Lakedon Castle, my home. But Angeles Palace, the residence of the Illéa's, may as well also be my home, coming to Angeles every two or three weeks, for about four to five days at a time, then flying back to Lakedon Castle. I would also visit Clermont Château, the central home of the Valencia's, every now and then, but not enough to consider it a place of homeyness. But even if I traveled to the Château more often, I could never consider it a home, even I was sometimes scared of the Valencia's. Hearing stories about the Valencia family was like telling a child the story about 'the great, horrible monster under their bed.' They were stories that every child of Noble birth grew up hearing, a sort of tradition. A tradition that that the Valencia's have taken proudly, looking at the stories as a power of strength.

Blowing air through my chapped lips, I stood up from my chair, pushing it back and heading to the door to send my letter. But before I got to the door, someone knocked loud and hard. I went to open it, now to address the person at the door, annoyed that only now someone chose to interrupt my entirely planned day.

When the door opened, it revealed a youngish manservant with pure, almost white, blond hair and large dark brown eyes, I gave him a look to prompt him to say what he was here for.

He quickly pulled upwards a small silver-wrapped box, a silver card accompanying it. Then a larger merlot-red box with no card or wrapping-paper attached. "The silver is from House Conwyn, the red is from House Schreave. Gifts for your Candidacy, my lord." He said quickly, handing me the gifts carefully. Then without another glance, disappeared down the hallway.

I pursed my lips at the empty hallway, but turned back into my own room, using my leg to fling the door closed. I took my seat at the familiar desk, dropping the boxes on the flat steel with practically no care, then cringing when I heard something get slammed against the side.

I bit into my cheek. _I might as well open them now_ , I thought.

I started with the smaller box, the silver box from House Conwyn, opening the card first.

" _Dear Earl Warren Schreave,_ " it read, " _on behalf of House Conwyn, I would like to congratulate you on your Candidacy. When you rise to your future position, I hope you remember our loyalty and enjoy our gift._

 _On behalf of all of House Conwyn,_

 _~ Count Royce Conwyn"_

I smirked at the letter; House Conwyn was known for sucking up to the more powerful Houses in Court, and this year they were smart enough to look for me as their ruler.

I reached for the gift, my thumb edging under the finely-wrapped silver paper. The paper tore, and I used my other hand to fully pull the wrapping paper off, tossing it into the trash can next to my desk. I pulled the box open, taking out a thick silver ring with delicately designed birds etched on the upper sides. It was a fine piece of work, the silversmith the Conwyn's employed was known throughout the Court of his beautiful work and talent. But the only way to get a piece of his work was to have it given as a gift from the Conwyn's.

I put the ring back in its box, then pulled open a drawer to place the box in. I would make sure to show the ring to my mother and father, who would undoubtedly force me to wear it to some Ball or Gala to show the Conwyn's that we accepted their gift of loyalty.

After setting the gift aside, I reached for the gift from House Schreave, my own family, but probably from more distant family members. I lifted off the shallow cap of the merlot-red box, revealing several books strapped together with a thick black leather band.

The band was held together with a bronze clip, in the shape of the Schreave Family Crest nonetheless. The clip opened with a volumed pop with I slipped my finger under the clip. Carefully, I unstacked the books and laid them out on my desk so I could read the titles.

 _Meditations_ \- Gregory Hays

 _Iron of Time_ \- Laurence B. Whitehall

 _Customs of The Sciences and Arts_ \- Rosalind Hagan-Gedge

And finally, _Sins of The Revolution_ \- Charmaine Kahler

I had heard of all four books, _Meditations_ and _Customs of The Sciences and Arts_ were both books for scholars, whilst _Iron of Time_ and _Sins of The Revolution_ were books on the the Great Revolution of Illéa, the one that started the tradition of the Candidates and Selection. All great books, ones that I would definitely take the time to read. But the true matter at hand was who sent the gift.

I looked in the box, turning it over, causing a small, white business card to fall out. I picked out the card, then snorted with laughter when I saw the name.

 _Brynnel Schreave_. My dimwitted, annoying younger cousin. With his golden blond hair and dull, colourless blue eyes, he looked like the watered-down version of a true Schreave, and the bastard boy held no respect for his lineage. I greatly doubted that the gift was from Brynnel, I don't think the boy had ever picked up a book in his life, much less gift four of the greatest novels on scholarly and historical focusses to anyone.

I laughed deeply again, tossing the box in the trash can, then tucking the white business card in my pocket. I would have to make sure my parents saw this one, it would be a good laugh for everyone. But until then, I had to go find my Selected.

* * *

 **First, I want to thank all of my reviewers for last chapter:** RainIsMyMusic **,** Silvertrue **,** Canadaorbust **,** rysaspirit **,** Berrybush123 **,** Cookiedoodles168 **,** TheGirlWithTheRainbowTattoo **,** GreenWithAwesome **,** Fandomnation12 **,** ChillyIce **,** morethanjustastory **,** wolfofstark **, and** ThatKoreanBish **.** **You guys give me so much support and advice, I love you all! Thanks to all my readers, even those who don't review, though I encourage you to do, I hope you all are enjoying this story as much as I am whilst writing it. And Thursday was my birthday (yay me!) so all reviews are especially appreciated, and I can say on my birthday because it's the one day when everything is about you. Well, unless you have a twin… I have younger brothers who are identical twins, but they don't really seem to care since it means double the cake, lol.**

 **And now on to talking about the chapter…**

 **Yes, yes, I know. This chapter is pretty much just blah. I needed a filler chapter before the chapter announcing the Selected, so this is what you get. But I hope you relatively liked this chapter, I know Ren is a bit stuck up at times in this, but that's just his personality, even if I find him slightly annoying at times. But, taking all reviews into context, I categorised each Candidate into a "kill you" vs. "cinnamon roll" chart.**

 ** _Ren: Looks like he could kill you, could actually kill you. (Unless he's with Gwen)_**

 ** _Loch: Looks like a cinnamon roll, and is a cinnamon roll._**

 ** _Caspian: Looks like he could kill you, is actually a cinnamon roll._**

 **So what do you think of my chart? There are some inaccuracies, as with when Ren acts nicely around Gwen (who's names rhyme coincidentally), but I don't really think that "looks like they could kill you, could actually kill you" applies to all situations, so I think we're good!**

 **But in all seriousness, I really need those who have reserved a Province or sent me a partial form to submit their Selected. I want to get the next chapter up as soon as possible, and know that we all have very busy schedules and lives, but I just need the forms at any time in the next three weeks.**

 **Thank you all so very much,**

 **~ Renée**


	5. Chapter Five

**The Report**

* * *

 _Expectations can be vicious things_

 _Casting a mirage, making things appear sugary sweet_

 _Playing tricks on your mind and luring you in_

 _You're envisioning your perfect fantasy_

 _Taking that fateful step towards uncertainty_

 _Head high and heart full of blissful unrealistic expectations_

 _You find yourself stumbling in upon..._

 _Nothing_

 _But emptiness_

 _And your shattered dreams_

\- Unknown, _Expectations_

* * *

 **Lord Caspian Valencia - Royal Adviser**

The lights were bright and the energy was beaming, with Assistants and Set Workers rushing around for the finishing touches on the stage where an overall amount of nine chairs were set up, three chairs for each family. For once all the chairs were the same, equal, all made of elegant mahogany, the only difference were the coloured crests for each family that were carved onto the headrests. The chairs were placed in the shape of a half circle, glowing in the flattering, though blinding light of the stage.

I stood backstage, leaned up against a wall with one foot propped up against the artfully designed cement wall. In my hands were the questions that I would be asked before the Selected were announced, only I would be asked them. Being considered the most charismatic Candidate of the Selection, unless you asked Warren Schreave, who would immediately name himself such a position, I was the face of the Selection. It was tiring, but it was worth it. Especially for my mother, who knew that without her two sons, she would be nothing in Court.

" _Are you ready for the Selection_ ," I quietly read aloud to myself from the list of questions, forming a statistic answer in my head. It had been four weeks, a month, since my Candidacy was announced, and with it came nonstop preparations. So was I really prepared? Well, my life depended on it, so yes, I am prepared. For now at least.

"Five minutes until air!" A voice screeched over the commotion of the workers, causing all heads to turn to the arriving brunette woman, then a loud rush for people to get to their places.

"Caspian," my mother demanded, walking towards me, finding my hiding space between the food bar and a pile of abnormally thick cables. She wore a tasteful, ankle-length sheer dress with a high neckline and long sleeves, patterned entirely with crystals and diamonds that shined brightly in the stage light, and her hair was in waves with crystal circlet holding the brown tresses back from her eyes. "What did you do to your tie? And what is that on your cheek," she asked forcefully, gesturing to the apparent mark on my cheek, from what I guessed was the chocolate muffin that I snagged earlier.

I shrugged, brushing the crinkles out of my tie, then, after a glare from my mother, grabbed a spare napkin instead of my sleeve to swipe the chocolate off my cheek. Taking my shoulder, my mother firmly pulled me out of my corner and took the paper with the questions that I would be asked by Greyson Sellis, the Report Host, out of my hand.

"Caspian," she said, twirling me around to face her. "You will go out on that stage, smile, and play the part of a perfect Candidate. I will not have you disrespecting the members of House Valencia, you and I both know what we have worked for, what would happen if we made the enemies with the wrong people. _Now_ is the chance for you to become more than just a Royal child, show the world the true power of the Valencia's and their King." She finished with an oddly positive and supporting note.

I nodded with newfound confidence, and she gave me a look of business in return, but reached to brush invisible dust off my shoulders. Her face softened into one of a sort of pride, as before she walked away to take her seat on the stage, she squeezed my hand slightly in her own way of possible reassurance.

I cleared my throat and brushed down my tie once more, but then I stole one last glance at the food bar, with that one last chocolate muffin waiting on a silver serving tray. I bit my lip slightly. _Well, I wasn't King yet..._

"Live in ten!"

" _Nine_."

" _Eight_."

" _Seven_."

" _Six_."

" _Five_."

" _Four_."

" _Three_."

" _Two_."

" _One_."

"Going live now!"

"Hello Ladies and Gentlemen," the suave but booming voice of Greyson Sellis began. "Today's Illéan Report will truly be one for the history books, as now, for the first time ever, we get to meet the newest Candidates for our next Selection!"

I was seated in the middle, between Warren and Lochlen, and almost identically, we all gave the cameras a smile, though all differing in personality. The audience, all undoubtedly Twos, clapped and screamed with excitement.

"First, we have Earl Warren Schreave!" Greyson said, as Warren stood up to give a small, but serious bow.

"Next, Prince Lochlen Illéa!" The Report Host repeated, from which Lochlen stood up to do the same actions as Warren, though more timidly.

"And lastly, we have Lord Caspian Valencia, who is also this year's Selection Presenter!" Greyson finished with inducing excitement, gesturing for me to stand up and meet him at the front of the stage.

"Hello Greyson, Ladies and Gentlemen of Illéa," I said, sending a wink to a pretty blue-haired lady in the audience, then my perfected charming smile to the cameras. "I am honoured to be this year's Presenter, and to answer any questions that you may have about this year's Selection."

"Wonderful," Greyson responded, his voice moving to a more relaxed state. "Let's start with a few questions, one of the most popular questions on our online forum. How will the eliminations work?"

"Well, after the first meeting between the Selected and Candidates, each Candidate will get to eliminate one Selected. But after that, for a Selected to be eliminated, two out of three Candidates will need to agree to eliminate a Selected. But there will also be _tests_ of sorts along the way for the Selected, of which I can't tell you about now," I finished with a smirk, then reacted with a low chuckle to the ' _awe_ ' coming from the audience about the supposed "secret keeping."

"Don't worry Illéa, you'll find out about these ' _tests_ ' soon enough," Greyson said, playfully chuckling along with me. "Next question, how will the Queen and King be chosen, exactly?"

I grinned, "that part will only come into play when the Selection is down to the final five of the Ladies. Only then will the Candidates choose their partners, and the chosen Selected must accept the Candidate who has chosen them as well. Unfortunately that is all I can tell you for now, but I promise that the most important part of the Selection is to find love and find the right King and Queen of Illéa." I answered positively, winking at the audience.

Greyson smiled, clapping along politely with the rest of the audience. "Finally, we have our last question for you tonight. How will the first meetings work?"

I cleared my throat comedically, causing some in the audience to laugh. "Each Lady will get five minutes with all the Candidates as a group, and after all the meetings are finished, we will each eliminate one Selected." I finished cleanly, giving the audience a knowing nod.

"Well, thank you very much, Lord Caspian," Greyson said, shaking my hand. "And I wish all the Candidates luck and love in the next few months."

I took my seat again, meeting a short, but rather envious look from Warren when I sat down.

Moving on, Greyson straightened his tie to signal switching to a different topic. "But now, let's get to what all of Illéa, _and the_ _world_ , has been waiting to hear... The Selected!"

Cheers and whoops came from the audience, with many of the young women noticeably crossing their fingers.

"Please welcome the Selected Card Bearer, Theodosia Valencia!"

My cousin, a very distant cousin of mine, emerged from the wings of the stage. Theodosia was a pretty young girl, only twelve, with toned skin, caramel brown hair, and beautiful olive green eyes. She wore a knee-length baby blue dress with a tulle skirt, leaving her arms and half of her legs bare. She held a metal tray covered in wine-red velvet fabric, and on the tray were thirty-five white envelopes. I couldn't help the leap in my heart when thinking that one of the names in those thirty-five envelopes was my future wife.

"Let's get started, shall we?" Greyson said, grinning while reaching for the first card.

"From Allens, Lady Lanie Carlisle!" He said loudly with excitement.

This first girl had wavy, dark brown hair that framed her face, with olive skin, and round grey eyes. Very pretty in my opinion, I gave her a simple but approving smile, the same smile that I would give to every other girl.

I gave the same reaction to every girl after that, the simple smile and a nod. But when Clermont came around, it was safe to say that I was rather surprised to hear Marga, now _Lady_ Margarita's name called, showing that King Axel truly meant his words from that meeting a month ago.

Then there was Lady Allegra Dorian of Calgary that caught my attention next. A girl who's parents were known Rebels before their deaths by firing squad. The ex-military officer, Baxter Dorian, and Anette Dorian, the writer who's works completely denounced the three Royal Families and the government. I knew that Lady Allegra would have to watch her back around Court, there were still plenty of members who held a grudge against the Dorian Family.

On to Lakedon was Lady Lacey Wolfhard, who was Gwendolyn Schreave's own nanny. The first real sign of emotion Warren showed was during her announcement, especially with the lady being backstage with Gwen and Adira right when her name was called, clearly to the excitement of both young girls.

We were near the end with Tammins, introducing Lady Brontë Oliver, the blonde who Lochlen seemed particularly interested in, probably because of the remembrance from her first name to the Brontë Sisters.

"From Waverly, Lady Elowen—Elowen Serris!" Greyson said, but more stuttered, raising his eyebrows in a sort of amazement at the picture that appeared of where his own daughter, and my own childhood friend, smiled, and was all grown up.

Personally, I was stunned. I hadn't seen Elowen, or Winnie as I knew her, since I was fourteen, before she left for Boarding School in Waverly. She was my best friend since I was a baby, and my first "kiss." Winnie was about four, and I was six, so it was a childish thing, I could hardly remember it. But the most surprising thing about Winnie, after not seeing her for five years, was that she turned blonde!

I was kept up in my thoughts about my blue-eyed childhood friend, about what I would say to her when we met again, that I missed the next two Selected.

 _One was named something around Liv, and the other was for sure a Mattie._

I tuned in just in time to hear the Selected from Zuni.

"Finally, from Zuni, Lady Carnegie Newark!" Greyson announced, finishing up with a loud clap for the Selected girls.

Lady Carnegie was an especially pretty girl, with thick blonde locks and doe-shaped green eyes, and a big smile. The perfect finishing touch of the announcements. But also, as only the Royal Families knew, a false promise that this Selection would be a joyful task.

"Thank you Ladies and Gentlemen of Illéa for tuning in tonight for the Announcement of the Selected, " Greyson said with a relaxed energy. "Please turn on your televisions in a week to get the next glance at the Daughters of Illéa!"

I smiled brightly at the cameras, relinquishing in the realisation that I would be able to drop my happy and boyish façade soon, and knowing that I was ready for a full night of rest.

I stood up with the rest of my family, just my father, mother, and I currently, to shake hands with Greyson and wave to the audience. It was just my parents and I now, representing House Valencia, with Nixon back in Clermont, undoubtedly drunk, on both his misery and alcohol. But I knew that my mother would slap him back into sobriety when my parents went back to Clermont tomorrow, leaving me alone in the Angeles Palace for the next three weeks.

But I was ready, I was prepared. I had to be. This year was my year, and I would live up to the expectations that my mother set for me.

 _I will become King, no matter what._

* * *

 **And that was Chapter Five, I'm sorry that it was rather short, but it was one of those chapters that you just need to get out there, sort of like a filler. But I promise that the next chapter will be longer, and the chapters will have more story to them after we introduce the Selected.**

 **Speaking of the Selected, and I hate to put a date on you guys, but I need all characters finished and sent to me by November 20th. If not, then I will replace your character with one of my own fillers, but if you have a really good reason why you can't finish your character by that time, please PM me.**

 **Also, I noticed a trend in the reviews about a certain topic from the last chapter. A few people were worried that a girl with a past relationship with one of the Candidates might have an unfair advantage in the Selection, but I promise that no one girl will have an advantage over another (Odelia and I will both make sure of that). I will write what makes sense for the story and what goes with the plot in my head, and if a girl gets a certain storyline because she happens to have a past relationship with a Candidate, then I will write that. But I promise that I will be completely fair to all Selected.**

 **Moving on, thank you to** rysaspirit **,** ChillyIce **,** Canadaorbust **,** Silvertrue **,** RainIsMyMusic **,** ThatKoreanBish **,** Cookiedoodles168 **,** jess120 **,** morethanjustastory **,** Fandomnation12 **,** wolfofstark **, and** GreenWithAwesome **for reviewing! I love hearing from all of you and thank you guys especially for all your helpful comments and tips! Please review on this chapter and tell me what you think (I know this chapter is kinda sucky, so be nice on me, lol) and anything you'd like to see in future chapters. Also, if you'd like to give me any suggestions or story ideas for your characters or the story in general, I would love to hear them through PM or sending me a message on my Pinterest. So please review on this chapter and I'll update as soon as I can!**

 **~ Renée**


	6. Chapter Six

**A Meeting With The Stars**

* * *

 **This chapter is dedicated to** thesparklingjewel **and** The Fallen Magelet **, who were so wonderful to give me each a character in such a short amount of time, so I could get the Selection started! Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

 _Tell me about_

 _your passions._

 _Tell me what_

 _makes you tick._

 _Tell me all the things_

 _you've discovered_

 _about yourself_

 _after all these_

 _years of searching._

 _Why do you_

 _do the things_

 _you do, and_

 _how did you_

 _get to be such_

 _a beautiful creature?_

 _I want to get to know_

 _you so I can_

 _justify this love_

 _I already feel for you._

\- Marianna Paige

* * *

 **Prince Lochlen Illéa - Prince of Illéa**

"Relax, Loch. Pick a card." Octavian argued with reason, my twin gesturing upwards his left hand of turned down playing cards to me from his seat on the floor of my bedroom.

I waved his hand away mindlessly. "I have less than an hour to remember all of the Selected," I returned tiredly.

"Now, now Loch. I though you promised me that the Selection wouldn't turn you into a carbon copy of the good-for-nothing Warren." He snorted, dropping his cards to the floor, then proceeding to organise the cards by suit.

"Well you're not a Candidate—"

"And I don't want to be, I never did," Octavian shot back, looking up from his precious cards.

I gave him a look.

He let go of his fight, giving in. "Here, let me take a look at your Selected. I'll help you with memorising." He offered, dropping the sharpness from his tone, pushing his nearly organised cards aside.

"That's what you're good at, not me," I said, sighing.

"Come on," he said, smiling. "It's not that hard."

I shrugged, allowing him a seat next to me on my bed, handing him ten of the forms. Octavian didn't seem to care for his currently rumpled suit, a basic copy of my own, but with his waistcoat being a dark reddish purple, while mine was a dark blue. One would think that my mother would have stopped dressing us the same now that we were both nineteen. Though Octavian still allowed his suit to crinkle enough to give Warren Schreave a heart attack.

"Let's see..." he dragged on. "Here, Lady Brontë Oliver of Tammins. Now give me her occupation and age."

"Uh, Lady Brontë Oliver of Tammins, right..." I struggled for a second, remembering the pretty blonde from the Report screen, before giving my answer. "She works as a Front Desk Manager and her age is, um, nineteen?"

"Correct," Octavian responded with a grin. "And it says on her form that she is also a tutor for her younger siblings. Remember that, you'll probably score some points with her for knowing that detail."

I nodded my head, then gestured for him to go to the next form.

"Next, Lady Nymaria Casil of Dominica...ooh, she's a pretty one." He said, grinning, while holding up the picture of the tan brunette girl, purposely covering the information on her form with his hand. "What's her occupation and her favourite hobby?"

"Lady Nymaria Casil of Dominica, a Travel Writer for..."

"Cultural Magazine."

"Right, Cultural. And her favourite hobby is traveling," I finished with a note of confidence.

Looking back at the form, Octavian tilted his head slightly to the right. "Good enough, but try to have less pauses when answering. Even if you don't remember certain details. Remember to play along with it, with that, you're set!"

Nodding in agreement, but my brain stopped a second later, remembering what I had meant to ask of Octavian.

"Um, there's actually one more thing that I wanted to ask you..."

"Yeah?"

"How..." I struggled for the words. "Exactly do you...flirt?"

Octavian's face split into a godly smile, wide and excited. Looking exactly like our mother when she got a new person to "experiment" on. Our mother had a reputation for dressing up her young, mostly teenaged ladies-in-waiting like dolls for her to play with.

"I was waiting for this day to come." Octavian gushed, clapping his hands together.

"Ugh," I complained into my hands, my fears coming true. "I deeply regret asking you that."

"Nonsense! Look at my little Loch growing up!" He gushed again, reaching out to pinch my cheeks.

I swatted my hands away from his face, frowning.

"I'm serious!" I argued.

Octavian raised a perfect light brown eyebrow. "Well, for starters, you're not helping yourself with your anti-social attitude."

"I'm not anti-social." I grumbled, knowing of Octavian's constant complaint of myself.

"You don't even follow me on my social!" Octavian cried, throwing his hands dramatically in the air.

I blinked. "You have a social?"

"Yes, and you'd know that if you ever got your head out of the flowers in the Garden!"

I blushed at that, pulled my head down in retreat. At Octavian bringing up my love of flowers and the Palace Garden, which was taken care of more by myself than the actual employed gardener.

"I should call up Lady Lena, she's in Room Sixteen of the second floor of the Palace, I believe. She'd be better at this." He complained, though hinting at the "Lady" part of Lena's title, his dramatics becoming more clear now.

"Countess Lena," I corrected, acknowledging the presence of our childhood friend at the Palace. This time as a surprise Selected Lady.

Ranks in Illéan Court, such as that of a Countess, were always confusing. There was the deals of titles, the deaths of House Heads, what the children of certain ranks would be permitted to do, and many more questions that people often asked. But it was common knowledge that a Lady of Court was higher ranking than a Countess, Baroness, and a Madame. Though there was the exception of a Selected Lady, whom were not as high ranking as a true born Lady of Court. They were the same ranking that of a Madame, the daughter of a Baron or Baroness. That was why the three Selected Caste Ones were to be addressed as their birth titles, because the title of a Selected Lady would bring them down in ranking. It was a very complicated, though thought out system that wouldn't allow anyone to puncture its holes.

"Yeah, yeah." Octavian brushed off my correction. "But she's still the Lena we know."

"I guess," I submitted, shuffling the forms I held in my hand into a perfect pile.

Octavian glanced at a clock, which read: seven thirty four. "We'd better get to the Palace, breakfast will be starting soon." Octavian suggested.

Without saying a word, I agreed by collecting all the strewn around forms, and fixed them back in their folder, placing the folder on my desk.

"Efficient as always," Octavian mused, opening the door for me with a comical bow.

I rolled my eyes, grabbing his arm to bring my twin back to an equal height as mine.

"Let's go meet your girlfriends, shall we?" He teased, wiggling his eyebrows, while clapping me on the back and pushing me out the door.

* * *

"Get this, Loch," Octavian said eagerly while catching up with me from him stopping to talk to some member of Court. "I heard from Cash Conwyn, the visiting Baron, that Warren Schreave drove mother into a fit."

"How?" I asked, with a bit of a bored tone. I didn't really care for the latest addition of "Who Warren Schreave Pissed Off This Time." Cashel Conwyn, Cash to everyone but his parents, always had a way of exaggerating things anyway. Even if it was my own mother, who, honestly, could be just as sensitive as the Schreave Heir.

"Apparently, good ol' Warren took it upon himself to organize the Selected Rooms and Schedules. And you know how mother gets about other people interfering on her turf."

"And...?"

"Well, mother threw a fit when she saw that the lilac silk pillow cases she ordered from New Asia were replaced with mint green feather ones from _Dakota_."

"Doesn't mother like feathers?" I asked, still confused with what the big deal was.

"Yes, but the mint green pillow cases clashed with the silver walls, and I saw the Warren-designed set up myself! It was a huge mistake on his part."

I blinked, still silent.

"You obviously don't get the big deal here," Octavian said dryly.

"I don't think that there's anything wrong with green—"

"Mint Green!" Octavian hollered.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with _mint green_ pillow cases," I corrected dryly. "The cases are changed every other day, I don't see a problem in simply changing the _mint green_ ones to the lilac then."

"Someday Loch, someday you will understand the pain." Octavian swooned dramatically, reaching with a flourish to open a grey door that would lead to the Dining Hall.

"I rid the day," I joked playfully, following Octavian through the door.

From there, we entered the Dining Hall, a magnificent room of black wood and glittering gold accents. A long dark oak table, spanning half the room, was centred. Each plush seat had a placemat, set of plates, and utensils in front of them. Everything perfectly set, not a fragment out of place.

"That's _one thing_ Warren Schreave didn't ruin." Octavian muttered under his breath, moving to take his place at the dark oak table, where our family, had already taken their places.

"Oh, Lochlen! My dear," my mother said with a bright smile, rising up from her plush seat and walking forward with grace in her step. "You won't be sitting right away, you must go meet with Lord Caspian and Earl Warren to discuss interviews and welcoming the girls to the Palace!"

I froze at those words, my relaxed posture from my conversations with Octavian becoming frigid. _Welcoming them_? Of course I knew that at some point I'd have to talk to them, but I knew that I was never going to be fully prepared to actually _talk to the Selected._

"Yes...mother," I responded stiffly, letting her guide me towards the door that I came in from. I snuck a glance back at Octavian, who was smirked with a rather evil grin on his face. I mentally cursed him for his obvious opinion of my situation, but continued on out of the Dining Hall.

"Just down the staircase, then to the right, my love." My mother finished, planting a kiss on my cheek. I mentally groaned, imagining Octavian's smirk, but gave my mother as half smile as she turned around and went back to the Dining Hall.

I sighed, accepting my fate. I made my way down the marble staircase and turned to the left, following my mother's instructions. I opened the door straight ahead and sucked in a breath to walk into the room, of which one side was pure white, and the other was a solid black.

"Finally! We've been waiting here for at least ten minutes!" Warren said, standing up from his seat on a velvet red couch beneath a white and black painting.

Warren abruptly turned to where Caspian was sitting on a velvet red chair, with his dark grey tie strewn across his eyes, giving the appearance of a sleeping Caspian.

"At least one of us was waiting," Warren said aridly. He stared at Caspian for a good thirty seconds, as if only Warren's stare could wake Caspian. "Oh for the love of—" Warren shouted angrily, picking up a book from an end table and aiming it at Caspian's head.

Immediately, Caspian shot up from the chair.

"No book! Bad book!" He yelled, collapsing on the ground dramatically as Warren threw the hardcover book at his target.

"Good, you're awake!" Warren said happily, clapping his hands together, sounding so much like my mother that I wondered for a second if Warren was actually her child.

I had to stifle my laughter as Caspian groaned and stuffed his face in a pillow.

Looking like a young child at Christmas, Warren began his monologue with a childlike grin. "So, now that everyone is here, we can go over the situation. I put together a plan for the first interviews, involving a detailed map of which girls go first according to their forms and other details—"

"Let me guess, first will be Lady Titania Baudelaire of Carolina." Caspian cut in, now standing up and leaning against the black wall. With his tie around his shoulders, and a rather bored look on his face.

Warren blinked.

"So you read my files," Warren responded dryly.

Caspian snorted. "No, I'd assume she'd go first because she's the one with the 'Warren Schreave Fan Club'."

"We haven't even met the ladies yet. I don't pick favourites."

"It seems you've already broken that code. Knowing you, Rennie, you'll pick the first girl who says that she can actually stand you. If that's possible, for anyone to stand you other than your own mother."

"At least my mother cares about me."

"Yeah, that's because without her only son, she'd be nothing."

"That's far from true, my mother actually has a family to take care of her. Unlike yours."

"Low blow."

"Guys..."

"Well, I don't go whoring myself around to any passing Ambassador's daughter."

"What do you know? I'm sure you haven't had any experience in that department."

"You son of a b—"

"Please! Stop!" I yelled, making quick work to jump in between the two strongly opinionated men, who looked completely ready to start throwing punches.

"Never any fun, are you little Loch?" Caspian mused, not breaking eye contact with Warren.

"I'm surprised that he even had the guts to wake up this morning." Warren said, smirking, meeting Caspian's gaze with equal vigour.

"I'm _sure_ the ladies will love him," Caspian said right on cue.

I wanted nothing more in this moment to crawl in a hole and die. Which I knew Caspian and Warren would gladly help me with, it meaning less competition for them.

Warren opened his mouth to say another insult, but was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. I almost breathed a sigh of relief, though stopping myself when I remembered that both Caspian and Warren were trained to smell fear like dogs.

"State your business." Warren snapped, turning breaking eye contact with Caspian and purposely shoving me when he turned towards the door.

"Queen Mirabelle sent me to inform the Candidates that all the Selected Ladies have gathered and are ready to be officially welcomed," a shaky male voice sounded out.

"Very well." Warren sighed, heading for the door.

Caspian followed, but not before he leaned down to whisper a threat in my ear. "This isn't over little Loch. I promise."

Shaking slightly, I followed both Candidates out the door, passing the brunet servant who gave me a look of pity as he noticed the rather violent mannerisms of Caspian and Warren.

Making it to the top of the staircase last, Warren and Caspian had already slipped into their friendly and charming smiles, making me look incompetent and weak in comparison. We all used the side door into the Dining Hall, without a look at my family, we lined up on the side of the main door, signalling for the servants manning the doors to open them.

"Presenting the Ladies of the Selection."

The first girl came, her name slipping my mind as fear settled in my bones.

"Lady Lydia, welcome." Caspian said with small bow, raising the lady's hand for a kiss.

The beautiful dark haired Lady Lydia blushed and looked us all over, then took the hand of a servant to guide her to her seat at the long dining table.

The rest of the girls filed in after Lady Lydia, and I let Caspian and Warren take the reins of welcoming all the ladies. Though they forced a Lady towards me with invisible grins. I could barely look Lady Andrina in the eyes, her beautiful green-grey orbits seemed to capture every part of me. So much that I could only croak out a "Welcome Lady Andrina," before she was lead away.

When all the ladies were seated, we made our way to our seats at the heads of the table.

With a charming smile, completely different from his smirk only thirty minutes ago, Caspian stood up from her seat to give a short speech. "Welcome the the Angeles Palace, ladies. Enjoy your breakfast, feel free to chat and talk, as the ladies you see around you are the people you will possibly be spending the next months with. And after breakfast, the first interviews will take place! Please be yourself and be honest, the idea of the first interviews is for all the Candidates to get a good idea of who you are as a person, though for most of you, there will be much more time over the course of the Selection for us all to get to know each other." Caspian said with a wink, making a couple seated ladies giggle.

 _Definitely Caspian fans_ , I labelled them.

"So welcome, enjoy your breakfast. And I know I can say for the other wonderful Candidates here, that we can't wait to meet all of you!" Caspian finished, grinning, earning gentle applause from the table of ladies.

Taking a deep breath, I managed a clearly uneasy smile to the ladies, many of whom were already starting to dig into their served food and ignored me. At that moment, I gave up on the charming angle that Octavian had so naturally perfected. And as I ate my breakfast of fried egg, hazelnuts, chanterelles, and blackberries, I couldn't help but reflect on every social mistake I had ever made.

 _Oh this Selection is going to be hell._

* * *

"I hope you Ladies enjoyed your first breakfast at the Palace, and now that everyone has finished, we will start the first interviews!" My mother said enthusiastically, though her eyes combing over each girl, examining them to find her eventual replacement. "Please relax and converse with one another until a servant calls you for your interview."

I flashed another weak smile at the ladies as I rose to follow Caspian and Warren to the room we were in before, Caspian and Warren taking their places in the velvet red chairs on the side of the room with the pure black, almost sinister, walls. I awkwardly stood in the centre of the room for a couple uneasy second, underneath Warren's penetrating gaze, until I chose the only seat left, the one on the far left, closest to the door.

"Starting bring in the ladies," Caspian called, grinning.

A few moments later, the first lady arrived.

"Lady Tatiana," Warren said with charm dripping off his every word, a side that seemed completely new.

"Yes! That's me...Tatiana," the lady stammered, blushing furiously and swooping into an awkward deep bow.

Warren chucked, stepping up from his seat and gently raised Lady Tatiana from her bow, giving her a kiss on her hand. The two stared into each other's eyes, an indescribable force filling the room.

To my right, Caspian rolled his eyes, as if to say, " _and Warren said he wouldn't choose favourites_."

"So, Lady Tatiana, let me... _us_...about yourself." Warren began, guiding Lady Tatiana to a seat on the velvet love seat diagonal from our chairs. He took a seat back in his chair, grinning for the lady to start.

"Well...I work in the metal industry, I'm a Metal Artisan to be exact." Lady Tatiana said, becoming more confident with every word.

"Any certain specialty?" Caspian asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know that it's a bit unusual, but I do my best work in blades. Knives, daggers, you name it!" Lady Tatiana joked, though I was taken back by the topic of her work.

 _A girl who was been trained all her life to handle blades._

Well, one doesn't find that in a lady every Selection.

A gentle knock on the door signalled that the time for the interview was up.

"Well Lady Tatiana, it was wonderful getting to know you, I hope we meet again soon." Warren finished with a wink, already promising the girl that her place in the Selection was fully secured.

Beaming, Lady Tatiana gave another small bow, then left.

After another moments, the next lady came in.

"Lady Lillian, welcome to the Palace." Caspian, gladly excepting his turn to welcome a lady.

"Thank you, your highnesses," Lady Lillian said with a bright smile, her captivating sea green eyes twinkling, as she gave an easily moving curtsy.

"So, Lady Lillian," I began, awkwardly clearing my throat as she gave me her full attention. "I know that your grandmother is past Selected Clare Larousse, it must be nice to have someone who previously experienced the Selection before in your family."

Immediately Lady Lillian's face dropped, showing that I struck some sort of nerve with her. "Yes...I guess it's nice," she managed out, now looking rather uncomfortable.

I opened my mouth to apologize for saying anything that made her uncomfortable, but the familiar knock on the door stopped my words.

"Before we finish, I do have a last question for you Lady Lillian." Warren intruded through the tension my words had created.

"Shoot," she said warmly, clearly glad to move away from the previous topic.

"If it came down to it, what is your strategy for winning the Selection?" Warren said bluntly, completely straightforward.

I cringed slightly at his directness, my vision flickering between Lady Lillian and a Caspian who looked two seconds away from bursting out into laughter.

"Well," she started with a goofy smile, "I'm going to win you over with my awkwardness, cheesy jokes, random commentary, and love of food. Then we'll see where we get from there," Lady Lillian finished with a laughing wink, rising from her seat on the couch to give a small curtsy and leaving the room at the silent pushing demand of the butler stationed outside the door.

Warren only stared after Lady Lillian, the look in his blue eyes seemingly reminiscing about some topic the lady reminded him of.

Then quick enough, the next lady came in. Both Warren and Caspian staying in their seats, telling me that it was my turn to welcome the lady.

"Lady Addison, wel—welcome." I stuttered, and in a action of complete fear, I reached out to shake the lady's hand instead of kiss it.

"Thank you, your highness! It's so lovely to meet you in person!" Lady Addison said brightly, establishing a friendly part of herself.

Taken back a little by the lady's friendliness, I froze for a moment, but managed to gather my thoughts. "So...Lady Addison, please do take a seat...and tell us a bit about yourself."

Seemingly unfazed by my unusual pauses, Lady Addison gladly took a seat and kept up her eye contact with me, causing myself to heat up a bit.

"My name is Addison Biels, as you'd know," she attempted at joking, though fidgeted at the end. "I'm a culinary student at the Illéan Institute of Culinary Art, also known as IICA, in Sumner, my home province. My dream has always been to open a restaurant with my... _friend_...Juan. It's both my dream and passion," Lady Addison added, grinning, though I didn't miss her faultier when talking about her "friend" Juan. I couldn't help but wonder about this "Juan." Was he an ex-boyfriend? _Her current boyfriend_?

But I shook it off, knowing that if "Juan" was truly important, it would come up in future conversation with the lady.

"I can see that you are quite talkative, Lady Addison. I'd love to hear more stories of your life in the future, but I'm afraid that our time is up. It was wonderful meeting you My Lady," Caspian said charmingly, standing up, easily capturing Lady Addison's full attention as he kissed the top of her hand.

Lady Addison blushed, attempting a faint curtsy, then leaving the room steadily.

Taking another deep breath, I smiled after Lady Addison, and felt a sudden burst of confidence as the next lady arrived to the room.

"Lady Carnegie, lovely to meet you," Caspian said quickly, interrupting on Warren's turn as he eagerly stepped forward to bow and kiss the lady's hand. "Please, take a seat, and share about yourself." He grinned charmingly, clearly interested in Lady Carnegie.

"Oh," she paused, surprised by Caspian's upfront behavior. She stole a glance towards myself, causing heat to rise on my cheeks. "Um, anything specific?" She joked shyly.

"Little facts and tidbits about yourself, Caspian said, grinning. "Or your entire life story, that works as well."

Lady Carnegie gave out a beautiful, pure laugh, her face going a bit pink. "I don't think I can remember or recite my entire life story, but I have plenty of 'facts and tidbits.'"

"Go ahead," Caspian encouraged, beaming at the pretty blonde.

"For a 'fun fact,' I do have a baby golden retriever named Luella. And I swear to you that she's the laziest dog to ever grace this planet," Lady Carnegie said, laughing shyly again. "She was twentieth birthday present from my parents."

"So I take it that you're a dog person," Caspian suggested in return.

She chuckled lightly, "I'd classify myself so."

"I would call myself a dog person as well," Caspian replied, smirking. "You gotta love those dogs," he added, lying straight through his teeth, though the lady was oblivious.

My inner-Octavian wanted to slap Caspian for the obvious, to everyone but Lady Carnegie, lie, though my actual self was too worried to cause a scene.

"Lady Carnegie, it was nice meeting you, but we have run out of time, so we must ask you to leave." Warren said coldly, clearly a tone aimed at Caspian, but he took it out on the lady.

Lady Carnegie looked a bit hurt and worried from Warren's tone, but gave a tiny curtsy, then left.

"Unnecessarily rude, aren't you Rennie," Caspian murmured, staring after Lady Carnegie.

"Your tone was a bit overly harsh," I added timidly.

"My tone doesn't matter. She's only one girl out of thirty five," Warren snapped. "We still have thirty one girls to interview, so let's get on with it!"

* * *

Thirty girls later, I was so exhausted that even being terrified of talking to the ladies was too much work.

But I knew who was coming next.

Warren gripped the arms of his chair in preparation, purposely putting this certain lady last.

We could all hear the sound of her heels on the spiral staircase, even the straightening of the guards outside as she arrived at the door.

"Am I not going to be introduced?"

A guard cleared his throat. "Presenting Lady—"

"Uh, uh, uh."

"My apologies. Presenting Countess Magdalena Valerie Alfaro of Paloma, Countess of House Alfaro, daughter of the late Count Esteban Javier Alfaro and Countess Dulce Katerina Alfaro of House Alfaro."

"Good enough. The door please." She responded with every bit the noble she was.

The door swung open, revealing my childhood friend, Countess Magdalena, or Lena, as I always knew her.

"Hello boys! Did you miss me?" Lena said dramatically with a wink, strutting over to a lounging seat on the couch.

"Hello Lena," Warren said sullenly and stiffly.

"That's Countess Lena to you, honey," she corrected with a sugared snap of her tongue. "Now let me ask you boys a question. Do I really even need to be here? You all already know you love me."

"You caught us," I responded with a smile saved only for those close to me. "Welcome back Lena, it's great to see you," I said, chuckling, going in for a friendly hug.

"Oh I second that welcome, darling Lena," Caspian added, grinning playfully. "By the way, you do remember that my birthday is coming up in about a month, right? And I'd love to take a look at that wonderful tattoo of Rennie that you have on your ankle, if you need gift ideas."

Warren made a grumpily-sounding noise, though his eyes drifting down to Lena's ankles.

Lena smirked, leaning back on the armrests of the couch, bringing up her legs to lay across the couch's velvet cushions. Around her golden brown ankles were each one pure black ballet ribbon, woven into her thinly heeled black high heels, with the ribbons purposely covering the individual tattoos that I knew she had on each ankle.

"Sorry Cassy, but we'll have to save that for another time. We wouldn't want Rennie to cause a scene." Lena teased, fluffing out her purple with gold and silver spirals dress.

"I wouldn't cause a scene," Warren shot back angrily, crossing his tightly arms like a child.

"It seems that you are eight years too late to make that promise, Rennie," Lena responded right on cue.

"I was twelve."

"You are the epitome of an unchanged man."

"Well you—"

"Look, I love these clashes as much as the next person, but we've run out of time for the… _interview_. And we wouldn't want to keep anyone waiting, _would we Rennie_." Caspian interjected with a twinkle in his strikingly blue eyes, teasing Warren all the same.

Sitting back up from his leaned in position, frowning. "I guess so, and we must decide on our first three eliminated Selected."

With a beaming smile, Lena stood up abruptly. "Well, our time together was nice while it lasted! I'm looking forward to my elimination!" She said happily, coming forward to kiss each of us, blatantly except Warren, on the cheeks. "See you in your nightmares!" Lena said to Warren, pinching his cheek rather painfully then practically skipping away.

* * *

"I'm eliminating Lena, that's done." Warren snapped forcefully, slamming her form down on the mahogany table of the office we were situated in.

"What? No! You can't!" I said worriedly, the reality of my only true friend in the Selection being taken away from me becoming more real every passing second.

"You heard what Caspian said on the Report! We each get to eliminate one girl after the first interviews with no interference from the other Candidates." Warren argued.

"Sorry little Loch, but it's true." Caspian cut in with a sad smile. _He just can't pick sides, can he?_

"Can't I make a deal with you?" I begged desperately, knowing that I couldn't face the Selection all by myself.

Warren cracked a rather evil-looking smile. "My _deepest_ _apologies_ Lochlen, but this is my choice. And I chose to eliminate Lena."

I struggled for words. "I—I'll eliminate Lady Tatiana, the Selected girl from Carolina that you liked!"

He chucked darkly. "Go ahead, see if I care."

"I'll give you anything!"

"Anything?" Warren questioned, his voice an octave lower.

"Yes…"

"Fine, I want the Rosewater Files," he commanded with sickly sweet smirk.

My jaw dropped, and even Caspian looked up, shocked, from his lounging place on a corner chair.

"The-the Rosewater Files? Those would be impossible for me to get ahold of! Only the King and the Chief of the Military have access to those files—"

"You are the Illéa Heir, aren't you? The last time I checked, the Illéan Heir has full access to all government files." Warren said, grinning at his own plan.

I tried to find an argument to Warren's plan, but came up empty handed. "Fine, I'll get you the Rosewater Files," I agreed reluctantly, defeated.

"Wonderful. I expect them at my quarters by tomorrow at three pm, and you can have your Lena." Warren finished smugly, grabbing a form from one of the piles he had made and left the room with an spring in his step.

I stared after Warren, my brain slowly processing everything that just happened. In the mean time, Caspian stood up from his chair and took another form from Warren's pile.

Walking over to myself and clapping me on the back, he leaned down into my ear once more. "Little Loch, I'm going to do you a favour by voicing your thoughts because you look a little lost right now. _What the hell did you get yourself into_?"

* * *

"Could Lady Cassarah, Lady Kaelia, and Lady Marcella please step up and be so kind to follow us into the next room." Caspian said charmingly to the group of girls, giving a lighter air to the current situation.

The three ladies complied, following us to a separate sitting room near the Woman's Room where the ladies were escorted after their interviews.

"Ladies," Caspian began, him agreeing to handle the first elimination. "We've called you in here to tell you ladies that you have been eliminated from the Selection. You are all such beautiful and lovely ladies, but unfortunately not the right fit for this Selection. Thank you for your participation ladies," Caspian finished with an awkward smile.

Immediately, Lady Kaelia burst into tears and fled the room without another word, creating a sharp pain in my chest for seeing the lady in pain.

Lady Cassarah, however, looked quite angry. "I'm lesbian anyways," she snapped, swinging a dark tress over her shoulder then stomping out of the room.

Lastly, Lady Marcella had a blank face. It changed to one of quiet sadness, and with a half smile, she said a few words. "Thank you for the opportunity, your highnesses." Then she made her way out of the room like Lady Kaelia and Lady Cassarah.

"Well, now that's over with. We can get to the fun part," Warren said with an almost cynical grin.

* * *

"Ladies, congratulations. You just survived your first elimination," Caspian joked. "And now from my fellow Candidate, Warren, you will receive the next step in your Selection process."

"Thank you Caspian," Warren said curtly. "Ladies, as you know, the Selection is a very detailed process. And with the entire Selection's main goal being to find the next King and Queen of Illéa, we must be very selective with who gets into the Elite. So that is why, as Caspian hinted at during the previous Report episode, we have tests." He stopped to let the ladies take in the information.

Many of the ladies whisper among themselves, some daring to take nervous glances at us.

Warren continued, "there will be five tests in all, you ladies having passed the first test, the Interview. Each test will take place within two weeks of each other, and you will each be given one week to prepare for the test when it is first announced. The top scorers on each test will get special prizes, such as dates and outings—"

"Though even if you are not a top scorer, you will still get dates." I couldn't help but interrupt Warren, seeing many worried faces in the crowd of ladies.

"Yes," Warren agreed sharply. "But the three lowest scorers of each test will be eliminated, so everyone will want to try their hardest."

A murmur of agreement swept through the crowd of seated ladies.

"Lastly, before we leave you to socialize and get to know each other, we want to inform you ladies of the next test, which will be begun in a week. The Test of Intelligence, and you have the next week to prepare for the testing. Thank you ladies." Warren finished, igniting a spark of loud worries and talking over the ladies.

Caspian and I could do nothing at that moment but give each other uneasy smiles and a quick bow of our heads to ladies before following after Warren.

"Not how I would have told them about the tests, Warren," I attempted to joke and lighten the mood.

"Whatever," Warren muttered, turning down a hallway. "I still expect those files," he yelled before fully disappearing from my vision.

I mentally groaned, now alone in a random hallway with both Warren and Caspian gone. Facing my next big problem: _how in the world am I going to get those files?_

* * *

 ***Takes a deep breath* Andddd finished! Woo, this 6,000 word chapter took a lot out of me, but I wanted to get an extra long chapter out there since I hadn't updated in a while. In my defence, I had a test every other day so it was a very stressful time for me. But now it's Winter Break for me and I finally got this chapter out!**

 **Thank you to all my reviewers last chapter:** RainIsMyMusic **,** Berrybush123 **,** drakel19088 **,** wolfofstark **,** rysaspirit **,** ChillyIce **,** Canadaorbust **,** morethanjustastory **,** L.C. Carraway **,** ThatKoreanBish **,** Silvertrue **,** Cookiedoodles168 **,** jess120 **,** fandomnation12 **,** GreenWithAwesome **, and** TheGirlWithTheRainbowTattoo **. I'm so lucky to have such wonderful and constant reviewers, every review I get truly makes my day! Thank you to all my reviewer and readers, and please leave a review telling me what you think of this chapter, and have a great day/night and Happy Holidays** **wherever you are!**

 **~ Rene**


	7. Chapter Seven

Truce

 _The Blaze_

Set fire to my pen.

Ignite my words

until they're seared

into your memory.

When emotions

smolder

and paper

turns to ash,

sift remnants

for lyrics,

pull verse

from remains,

until inspiration

sparks

and my pen is

lit again.

\- Christy Ann Martine

* * *

 **Warren Schreave**

Everything.

The Rosewater Files were everything.

Yet I did not have the precious files in my hands, nor were they currently being delivered by a grovelling, obscure, random servant who just happened to find their hands on the most influential files known to modern times. I had been _patient_. Waiting at the sidelines for Lochlen Illéa to arrive at my door with the Rosewater Files, but he never came, and slowly the candle of time burned out.

 _That idiot_ , I thought angrily, _he had no idea what he just unleashed._

I thought about all the ways I would torture that little _tater-tot_ of a Prince, while tightening the tie of my navy green suit, preparing to enter the lion's den of a meeting room.

Today was the second Test—The Intelligence Test. I would be watching especially closely, for a Queen had to be of the highest intelligence and intellect to rule a country, and the three winners of this test would be the first to reserve dates with the three of us Candidates. I had already begun my list of potential Elites, which was due to change, since I only had information from the girls' backgrounds, submission forms, and the first interview. My top three potential Elites so far were mostly of higher Castes, bring in more of their own powers and influence.

Lady Margarita Atlas of Clermont was an obvious, trustworthy choice for the Elite, presenting both money and powerful influence, being the daughter of the Ambassador to England, with previously shown traits adding up to make her a natural-born leader. Then there was Lady Lillian Edgar, a Caste Three girl with a family legacy of recognition and prestige. She was the granddaughter of Lady Clare Larousse of Allens, a phenomenon of a woman who managed her way from a Six to the Elite of my grandfather's Selection, and the fourth final Selected before she was eventually let go. Lady Clare Larousse became an inspiration to many of the Lower Castes in Illéa, and for her granddaughter to enter the Selection after her, the press and the tabloids were sure to get a kick out of that. My final possible choice was Lady Titania of Carolina, a girl who showed great potential with the upmost loyalty and dignity, greatly admirable traits by the public. Unfortunately, Lady Titania was only a Caste Five—now Caste Three, although that didn't change that fact of which she came with little-to-no social or political influence, and any predictions of her performance during the Tests were unclear. But she was in my top three for a reason, and I had promised myself that I wouldn't get too attached to these girls, knowing they could come and go as easily as flowing water in an endless stream.

I laid down my paper and pen, having drafted my first letter to _Emma_ since the beginning of the Selection less than a month ago. It was my fourth draft of the letter, for some reason I hadn't been able to find the correct words to explain my current situation, without revealing my true position.

My darling younger sister Gwendolyn would say that the naïvety and complete unacquainted aura of our pen-pal relationship kept me grounded, secure. Of course, this was the same young child that called me brash. _Brash_. Of all things! I, Warren Schreave, _brash_. It was completely unheard of, inconceivable to any mind. Almost laughable, though I spared my innocent young sister of that reaction, as she still had much to learn of the world.

Standing to shrug on a navy green blazer jacket over my buttoned shirt, my mind flashed back to _Prince_ Lochlen Illéa. I had always thought of his shyness and stuttering act as sadly cute—like a kicked puppy. But I saw through his façade of boyish innocence, unmasking the manipulative liar that I knew was underneath, which made him truly just like us, simply needing that final push to make him realize his abilities and power in the world. An Illéa, through and through.

I had a meeting at eleven today, though first we were attending a breakfast with the Selected, in which an opportunity of expectedly seeing how they interacted with one another. Then Lochlen, Caspian, and I would attend the meeting, shaping up to be a review and final clearance of the Intelligence Test. Also, today was the first day which we would properly meet the Royal Testing Facilitator, who I was sure that I would be especially close with over the span of the Testing Periods during the Selection.

When I finished buttoning the blazer jacket of my suit, the silky fabric of the jacket hugging my sides tightly, I walked out of my Palace Suite. With my naturally fast walking pace, I maneuvered easily around corners and passing servants and other staff members, though stopping short at the sight of a deep, dark chocolate brown-haired girl in a periwinkle blue dress. The dress fell off her shoulders, clinging to her olive-toned arms, falling just below her knees. Like me, the lady clearly knew where she was going, though it took me a faint moment to recognize her because of how...noble she looked.

"Lady Lacey!" I called to her, jogging lightly to catch up with her.

Lady Lacey shifted on her silver flats to turn around, facing me with a surprised look on her pleasantly beautiful facials. She wore simple waterfall moonstone earrings that shimmered in rainbow flickers as she moved in the light coming from an opened window, which I noticed now, the earrings blowing to the left from the soft morning wind, bringing a autumn scent of florals and earthiness from the Palace Garden.

"Your Highness," she spoke formally, sweeping into a perfected curtsy without a wrinkle in her dress before standing up again. "I didn't expect to see you here. I had assumed that you were already in the Dining Hall."

"Yes." I chuckled softly. "I'm afraid that I got distracted by a rather entertaining novel that I just couldn't put down."

Lady Lacey's light brown eyes lit up in recognition, nodding along as I offered my arm for her to take as we continued walking towards the Dining Hall. A positive and bright smile that reached to her eyes formed on her face, her thin arm latching on gently to my own. A thought formed in my mind and I turned to question the Lady.

"Lady Lacey, I know that you know these halls like the back of your hand, but why were you wandering about up here?" I asked, my forehead crinkling in the question.

Lady Lacey pursed her lips as if in deep thought. "Well, I wanted to visit Gwen. To check up on her, you know? I understand that this...transition must be very hard for her, especially at such a young age."

I sighed in return, "I am still doing everything possible to try and stop this insane plan of marring her off to the Prince of England; to a family more dysfunctional than all of 'Reality' Television."

"Gwen is such a brave and mature young lady, there is much strength in her soul at this time." Lady Lacey remarked, placed a gentle hand on my arm as to reassure me. " _Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise_ , someday at least," she quoted, smiling brightly at the end.

"Thank you Lady Lacey," I responded, giving her an appreciative half-smile, "you make this whole situation so much less stressful and emotional. You have no idea how much House Schreave thanks you for your loyalty and inspiration—especially for a Six."

"Now a Three," she corrected playfully, though her tone now more firm and still lucid, but her kind smile still had not faded with the collegiality.

"Of course," I said, adding, "which means that you are a Lady now. With no occupation of attending to anyone of Higher Class, you are free to pursue your dreams."

"I am still in the Selection," she said, faintly laughing along. "And I have a little while to go before I can _pursue_ any dreams of mine."

"Yes, yes, yes." I chuckled. "You with all your formalities."

We arrived at the doors of the Dining Hall, the both of us saying our "goodbyes" and "good lucks," before taking our places at the long, wide table. We seemed to be the last to arrive to the Hall, with Caspian letting out a playful joke about our lateness that made most of the ladies giggle and some frown with obvious jealousy of Lady Lacey. Notable absences at the table—of the House Schreave and House Valencia matriarchs and patriarchs—were kindly looked over, with King Axel and Queen Mirabelle displaying welcoming smiles and words, showing off their wonderful acting skills. Another notable absence was of the youngest male Illéa: Prince Clinton, who was probably off brooding darkly in some corner while reading books about witchcraft and demon-summoning. No words were exchanged over his absence, only the silent thought handing in the floral perfumed air.

We had all began to eat our breakfasts, my own was a dish of Moroccan Baked Eggs with red chilies and cayenne peppers, extra spicy was just how I liked the food. Conversations had started with the ladies, led by a few of the more extraverted and talkative ladies in the groups of girls. Lady Juliette was heading a conversation between her and a group of ladies about the Palace and the new fashion line that she was working on that was inspired by some room she had spotted with her attentive eyesight. While Lady Brontë and Lady Thessaly—Lady Tessa as she incessantly insisted that we called her—had a more private and intimate conversation. They were offhandedly right next to a large group of girls who rivaled Lady Juliette's, seemingly captured in a story spun by Lady Lydia, who's upturned hazel eyes I briefly caught with a glimpse, causing her to blush slightly.

Eventually, the breakfast was finished, and Caspian, _Lochlen_ , and I wished them goodbye and good luck on their performance during the Test today. Caspian was confident enough to kiss a few of their hands, grinning slyly and flirtingly, becoming so caught up in his act that he accidentally attempted to kiss Lena's hand before she slapped him away and swore at him in Spanish. Lochlen, however, stayed nervous off to the side, flinchingly nodding to the ladies as they glanced his way. Sparing an unwarranted grim smile to the ladies, I slipped off to where Lochlen was leaning against the wall.

" _You_. _Me_. _Hallway_. _Now_."

* * *

"Look Warren," Lochlen spoke quickly. "I know what this is about and what you are going to blow up—"

"No, actually I don't think you quite understand what I'm saying right now." I said with seething anger, narrowly my shadowy blue eyes. "I don't think that you understand exactly what you did. What you just unleashed."

"Now," he said nervously," you just make yourself sound like an animal, with the whole 'you've now unleashed the beast' act."

"You _lied_."

Lochlen halted his attempt of recovery and recollection, his groomed light brown eyebrows curving in confusion and brown eyes filled with misunderstanding.

"You, _Prince Lochlen Evony Illéa_ , lied to me." I accused with quiet rage.

"Wait, how do you know my middle name?" He off-topically asked, his brown eyes astounded with surprise.

"That is of no importance," I cried dramatically, sobering up after seeing Lochlen's weirded-out face. "You are only diverting from the subject at hand."

"Warren, I'm truly sorry, but I couldn't let you read those files—" Lochlen argued nervously, stepping back closer to the cream-painted wall.

I was highly suspicious now, so I questioned him again. "You can't, can you? But you would have had to read the Rosewater Files to know what they contained—"

"Hey! Are you two boys done making out yet? Because the Test meeting starts in ten minutes," interrupted a smirking Caspian Valencia.

Realising how close I was pressed up against Lochlen, I stepped down hesitantly, throwing both Lochlen and that dumpster fire of a man Lord-Caspian-Fucking-Valencia a vivid glare that could shake a bear out of hibernation. Caspian merely smirked back, while Lochlen averted his gaze, becoming the first of us to start walking to that damned meeting.

* * *

"Gentlemen, thank you for finally making your way down to our lowly meeting room," Adviser Ryn, the Head Adviser of the Testing Process, said dryly, his nimble hands shuffling papers into perfect piles, while a sharp grimace laid on his face as result of Caspian and Lochlen's lateness. I pitied the poor man, having worked the past three Illéa Kings, now close to eighty in absolute age, without having seen the rightful Schreaves on the throne. Though if he didn't die before this Selection was over, I could assure him that if it was his last moments on this Earth, he would finally see a Schreave King take back our family's rightful place on the throne.

I was interrupted from my thought by the appearance of a tall brunette woman entering the room, wearing an all-black outfit consisting of a tight dark grey pencil skirt, sleeveless chiffon top, faux alligator-skin low heels, silver bangles on her upper arm, and a ancient-looking silver rose pendant necklace paired with equally-ancient silver rose stud earrings. She carried a large faux alligator-skin satchel which was the size of at least half of her, and was filled to the brim with manila folders and a laptop computer sticking out of the top.

"Candidates, may I introduce you all to Cécile Schreave...er...Drake, the new Royal Testing Facilitator," Adviser Ryn said in a wheezing, cracking old voice befitted of his balding head, short stature, and wrinkly dark skin.

But Cécile Drake, the dark-haired beast of a woman...now that was the problem.

"Cécile Drake?!" I spluttered. "This is rigged!"

" _Ohhhh_ , you poor boy," Caspian mused sarcastically, smirking at Cécile and myself.

"Now Warren—" Cécile tried to begin, reaching out a hand to try and touch my arm, which I flinched back from.

"You are a Schreave _Traitor_ ," I menacingly whispered loudly.

"Warren. I never betrayed my family, I only married someone I loved and just happened to change my last name." Cécile responded with a sharp tone, dropping her large faux alligator-skin satchel on the long grey slate business meeting table, seemingly fighting an angry look on her face. "Anyway, I do not believe that it would be wise to have this discussion in front of so many people," she said curtly, immediately turning around to take her place at the meeting table once she made her first and final point.

" _Fine_." I muttered, taking my own place at the front of the table before Adviser Ryn, the poor weak man, insisting that he just _had_ to sit at the head of the table.

* * *

The meeting had finished two hours later, essentially only about the Intelligence Test and how the test would be scored, which would be computerized and in live-time so that we could watch each Lady's answer go through and marked either wrong or right—that simple. Next we were heading over to the Testing View Area, where a one-sided glass wall would provide us a one-way vision into the rooms where the Ladies where individually taking their Tests.

When we entered the Testing View Area, the door opened by a key-code and fingerprint possessed by only Adviser Ryn. The View Area was a simple room, it quite large and could fit about fifty people, though the room was tiny in comparison to the huge wide glass sheen that was the entire east front side of the room. The glass made the east-side wall seems as if there was in fact no glass wall at all, providing a full view of the actual Testing Facility—which was fully lined in rows of metal desks, each with a computer and scratch paper, surrounded by thin metal shields to stop from the ladies viewing each other at all. The desks were lined up in eight rows of four desks each, all at least six feet apart, perfect for the remaining thirty two ladies. The Testing Facility almost would have looked like a large prison cell, which was true with the many metallic features and accents of the room, though the glowing shaded blue lights from the fixtures on the ceiling filled the Testing Facility with a soft luster of iridescence.

"And the ladies won't be able to see the other side, our side, of the glass?" I questioned softly, my vision captured in the soft glow of the blue lights.

"Of course not, Earl Warren, it is designed so," Adviser Ryn answered, moving forwards to allow a pair of Testing Lower Facilitates to take their seats in front of their designated computers.

Realizing the amount of computers now, I took the time to examine my current room, which's every wall was littered with computer stations with one person in a designated Testing Facilitate uniform and the Illéan Symbol freshly sewn into the breast pocket of the uniform. Above all of our heads, even that giant long-legged Caspian, were a dozen computer monitors filled with different statistics, vitals, and figures labeled: "Heart Rate", "Blood Pressure", "Body Temperature", and other bodily vitals, though I didn't know who they were for.

"Adviser Ryn, who or what are those statistics for?" I asked, shifting my hands to be placed behind my back and pressed tightly against my silken suit jacket, making myself look more professional in the old man's eyes.

"Your Selected." My confused glance made Adviser Ryn chuckle, reaching over to pick up a clipboard. "Each of the Selection has been given an injection of a clip into their dominant arm that we can use to map and determine their vitals, such as their heart rate. This isn't just an Intelligence Test, Your Highness, this is a Test to see how they perform under pressure, and performing well under pressure which is a requirement to be a Queen."

"Of course," I offered encouragingly.

"After the Selection ends or a certain girl has been eliminated, their chip will stay in their dominant, either left or right, arm. Until then, the chip can be used to track their whereabouts, though only by vaguer places, such as if they are in the Palace or all the way in a different Province, but not the exact spot." Adviser Ryn explained, flipping through pages on the clipboard, giving myself short glimpses of how the chips measured and translated to the computers in this every room.

"Intelligence Test starts in ten minutes!" A dark-haired man said standing up from his computer. "The Selected are entering!"

I felt an invisible hand push me into a chair in the middle of the room, directly in front of the wide glass sheen, and the largest computer monitor, this one lower than the others, allowing an easier view. Slowly as said, the ladies filtered into the Testing Facility one by one. The first one of them to notice the glass wall was Lady Angela, who gazed at the wall curiously with alert and suspicious, and when I tried to meet her blue eyes through the glass I had to remind myself that the glass was one-way.

All the ladies had been offered two types of Testing uniforms. The first was a black knee-length pencil skirt dress, underneath were equally black stockings, with a figure-hugging design and made entirely out of leather. The dress had a weathered shine, the leather almost at a metallic shimmer, with the fashionable quarter-sleeve dress, finished with a high neckline. The second option was an almost-skintight black jumpsuit, also leather, like the knee-length pencil skirt dress. The jumpsuit fell just around the ankles with leather leggings, and the neckline was only a golden zipper that could be quickly adjusted for it to be lower or higher, while the sleeves were similar to the dress, though a little bit higher and thinner. There was about an equal mix of ladies wearing the dresses to the jumpsuits, though maybe slightly more of the jumpsuits, probably reminding some of the ladies of the pants they wore back in their home Provinces.

The same dark-haired man from before reached for a microphone and cleared his throat, a finger flicking out to turn on the small red button to its green side. "Ladies, please take your seats, the Intelligence Test will begin in less than five minutes."

Apparently the rules and instructions had already been explained to the ladies, most likely by _Cécile Drake_ , and they quickly each took their seats. I wasn't sure if they were assigned certain desks, through I could safely guess that Adviser Ryn and Facilitator Cécile had created some sort of seating plan for the girls, all probably explain when I wasn't there.

"Ladies, ready your pencils..."

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

I expected a buzzer or simply a light to go off, signaling the beginning of the Test. But I was greatly disappointed by only a countdown of four hours from a back wall computer monitor in large font numbers. The one redeeming quality of the Intelligence Test beginning was the aesthetically peaceful look of all the ladies scrambling to solve whatever questions were placed in front of them. From what I had read on the clipboard that Adviser Ryn had given me, I learned that each Test was divided into many portions, eight portions to be exact. Mathematics, Literature, Language, Illéan History, Foreign History, Scientific Reasoning, and finally Domestic and Foreign Policies. These portions were randomized, meaning that you could complete Illéan History and go straight into the Bard's Literature, with the questions randomized for each girl as well, so even if they accidentally somehow saw another's Test, it would not contain the same questions as their own.

And as expected, Lady Margarita was flying through the Mathematics and Foreign History portions, her live-time computerized score showing almost entirely green marks. Lady Allegra was close behind her, finished with Domestic Policy and right in the middle of Mathematics, and equally as high scored, though a slightly slower time than Lady Margarita. They were the only two girls on their second portions so far, with only thirty minutes having had passed, making them the likely first two winners of this competition unless someone else stepped up their work effort.

* * *

Two hours had now passed, with all the ladies having had finished at least half of the Test portions, which was a restful and hopeful sign that all the ladies would at least complete the Test. Which was a feat in its own right, even if one were to complete the Test with horrible marks, though that would definitely be the least preferred. The ladies had all been permitted two water bottles filled to the tightly sealed top with Palace-purified water, while a fair share of snacks and drinks had been passed out back in our Testing View Area, which made me feel a fair amount guilty for the ladies' sakes. A rather annoying beeping sound randomly came on, which I tried to ignore, though my tightly pursed lips may have given away my feelings.

"Where is that beeping coming from? There is nothing in the guidelines that calls for beeping during the Test," the dark-haired man asked confusedly, standing from his watch over his computer.

"Probably just a small malfunction, Abraham, nothing to be worried about," Adviser Ryn responded monotonously, onyx eyes staring past the glass wall and onto the ladies with their Tests.

"I designed this system myself," Abraham said defensively. "There should be no malfunctions—"

Immediately as Abraham said those words, the room was plunged into complete darkness. Screams could be heard from the other side of the glass wall, meaning that the ladies were suffering the same fate as ourselves, and a fair share of people on our side were starting to make a ruckus. I had started to try and make some help of the sudden situation myself before on the computer monitors close to my head suddenly flickered on brightly, temporarily blinding me as I flinched away from the pain in my eyes. When I recovered my vision, retaining only hearing to listen to the gasps of others around me, I saw what the screen read.

" _SHALL WE PLAY A GAME_?"

It said in large letters on the tallest back wall monitor, where the four hour countdown once was, the blocky letters glowed in the same iridescent blue color shade that I had been so entranced with earlier. The words flickered off after about five more seconds, plunging us into darkness once more, then flashing onto another screen across the room.

" _IF I HAVE SEVENTEEN BOMBS AT MY DISPOSAL RIGHT NOW, HOW LONG WILL IT TAKE TO KILL YOU_?"

Before anyone could answer, the words flashed again to another monitor screen.

" _TRICK QUESTION_."

The screen flicked on and on again, sending a sharp chill down my spine as I back up into the desk behind me.

" _YOU ARE ALL DEAD INSIDE_."

These same words flashed and flickered all over the rooms and the different screens, through everyone of us was too terrified to say anything.

" _DEAD_."

" _DEAD_."

" _DEAD_."

" _DEAD_."

" _ALL DEAD_."

" _DEAD_."

" _DEAD._ "

" _SOON_."

"Soon?" A voice—Caspian—cried, breaking our well-kept silence. "I won't—"

" _YOU_."

" _SOON_."

" _DEAD_."

" _VALENCIA_."

And Caspian shut up.

" _DEAD_."

" _DEAD_."

" _DEAD_."

" _DEAD_."

Suddenly the screen started flickering again, though it wasn't like before, the room's lights joining in with the flickering. I grabbed the sides of a nearby armchair, squeezing my eyes shut from the headache the fast flickering lights were giving me. I opened my sensitive blue eyes barely enough to see the screen's last words.

" _UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN_."

And the lights came back on.

* * *

"First of all, congratulations on completing the Intelligence Test, ladies. That was quite a feat for any person, and you all deserve great recognition, especially with that little lights mishap we had," Caspian said, charming and winking the ladies into oblivion, as Lochlen and I made silent eye contact of mutual respect and recognition. A first.

"Though ladies, as with how the Selection process works, we must eliminate the last and worst three scorers. Although we would like to start with positivity here, as we will begin with the winners of the Intelligence Test." I spoke warmly and reassuringly, a strange voice in my mouth, though it made me feel... _warm_?

Lochlen stepped up shyly, holding the envelopes labelled with "First Place", "Second Place", and "Third Place".

"In First Place, we have Lady Margarita of Clermont," he said as the spoken lady stepped forward with a glowing smile on her face. Lady Margarita curtsied in perfect form and took the hand of a servant to walk off to the side of the room.

"In Second Place, we have Lady Allegra of Calgary," Lochlen said, slowly gaining confidence and control of his voice as he spoke. Lady Allegra stepped forward like Lady Margarita, but she didn't bow. Instead she simply nodded her head and followed to where Lady Margarita stood, not bothering for the hand of the servant. I hid my weirded out look from my face, attempting to maintain sanction between myself and the ladies.

"And finally in Third Place," Lochlen finished with a deep breath, "Lady Brontë of Tammins."

Light clapping came from the other Selected, though some didn't even try to hide their disappointment. Lady Brontë came forward with a thick blush dotting on her pale skin, with her doe-eyed blue eyes wide and unsure, much like a deer stuck in headlights. I tried to give her a warm-ish smile, but it seems that both Caspian and Lochlen had tried to do the same, which enacted an awkward curtsy from Lady Brontë before joining the other two ladies on the side of the room.

"Now, we must unfortunately announce the three ladies who will be eliminated tonight," I said, absentmindedly biting my lip shortly. "Lady Kinigünde of Denbeigh, Lady Stella of Midston, and Lady Alaneo of Panama, we are sorry to say that you have been eliminated from the Selection."

Lady Alaneo teared up, while Lady Kinigünde put her arms around the sixteen-year-old and mouthed something around: "Thank you for the opportunity."

Lady Stella looked almost angry, but ultimately sighed and cocked her head to the side. Coming up to us, she said, "I'd slap you all if I had the energy, but it's late and I'm tired, so I'll agree with Kinge and say 'thank you for the opportunity.'"

I nodded my head curtly at the eliminated ladies, watching them as they said their goodbyes and left the room. After which the other ladies went over to congratulate their fellow Selected on their wins and victories.

"I personally must agree with Lady Stella," I said quietly, just so only Lochlen and Caspian could hear. "It's late and I'm tired. I'm also in absolutely no mood to discuss what happened today." I looked up at the marble ceiling of the Palace. "So truce? For tonight at least, if not for tomorrow or any other future day."

Caspian and Lochlen looked at each other, as if considering a plan or treaty, which I guess it was in some form. Turning away from the ladies, now all dressed up in their gowns of wonderful chiffon and tulle, to give me their answer.

"Truce."

* * *

 **This chapter, not counting this Author's Note, was 5,000 words even so I hope you guys are proud of me. But sorry for the late and sucky update (yes, I do say that all my updates are sucky so that I somehow make myself feel better). Now that we've gotten into the gist of the story, I'll try to update more often, and my goal is every week or two weeks or so, though I'm still trying to balance this internet life with my actual apparent "social life" that I have. But thank you to all my reviewers (I'm too tired to list you all, though I love you guys so much) and supporters, and please tell me what you think of this chapter. Is there anything you guys want to see more of? Any characters that you especially like? Or any guesses or Caspian's chapter in the next update? Until then, bye!**

 **\- Rene**


	8. Chapter Eight

Thrill Me

"Let someone love you just the way you

are — as flawed as you might be, as

unattractive as you think you are. To

believe that you must hide all the parts of

you that are broken, out of fear that

someone else is incapable of loving what is

less than perfect, is to believe that sunlight

is incapable of entering a broken window

and illuminated a dark room."

\- Marc Hack

 **Caspian Valencia**

Lochlen, Warren, and I had met in the morning to decide which of the three Intelligence Winners we would individually be taking on dates, with myself pulling the card of Lady Brontë. So I spent the rest of the day preparing for the date, intending to outdo whatever Lochlen and Warren had planned for their dates. This night had to be perfect, with pulling out all the stops for my first time fully alone with one of the Selected, and Lady Brontë was sure to be impressed. All I needed to do was invite her.

I had sent an invitation up to her Palace Suite a couple hours beforehand, giving her maids time to prepare her for tonight's date. Now I was only waiting for her to arrive, and I could tell that she was taking her time. Maybe Lady Brontë was one of the more cheeky Selected, being fashionably later, though that wasn't exactly the personality I had gotten from her when I had previously met her. The sound of the door to the rooftop opening had whipped my attention to the figure emerging from the darkness.

Lady Brontë wore a gorgeous floor-length gown of blush tulle that flounced out from the light pink ribbon around the waist of her gown. The bodice was a silk cream color, with blush pink Point D'esprit embroidery artistically sewn in a sheer layer over the silk bodice. Sleeveless and thin blush pink straps held up the gown around her pale, thin shoulders, with a sheer back of the gown must have sent a chill down Lady Brontë's spin, as though the Angeles air was warm and comforting, she still shivered slightly.

"Lady Brontë," I began, smiling, "thank you for joining me tonight."

She nodded her head, not vocally responding, lifting up the gown's tulle shirts to reveal the dense taffeta layer underneath as she timidly took my offered hand. Leading her up to the Palace Rooftop, I could swear that I heard Lady Brontë suck in a breath. The Palace Rooftop, this area at least, consisted of a dark grey slate floor with many exuberant wall patterns and decorations. Large coal-colored bowl chairs with light grey cushions and neutral shaded pillows filled the rooftop patio, purple-and-gold flaming candles laid small onyx tables, giving the open patio a more romantic feeling. In the middle of the patio was an average-sized square table, with two open seats faced outwards for our places, its own purple-and-gold candle was lit and sitting patiently.

"Wow," Lady Brontë said tightly, sitting down in her seat at the square table, "it's, uh, wow."

"Yes, I wanted to make this date perfect," I responded, trying to hide my nervousness from her tone.

"Don't get me mistaken, the setting really is, er, nice." She looked for the words to saying, biting her small pink lip. "I'm simply not used to this type of...life style."

"Well, hopefully you'll stick around long enough to somewhat get to know this _life_ _style_." I chuckled, trying to offhandedly signal the servants to start bringing out the first course of the dinner.

Lady Brontë caught a glimpse of my odd wave just before I awkwardly dropped my hand to my side then raised my hand again to "casually" lean my head against. The strange action caused Lady Brontë to giggle and a pink blush to come up upon her pale cheeks, lifting a hand in an attempt to hide her mouth and stop her giggles, though her adorable blush had spread to the rest of her face in no time.

This brought us both into a period of awkward laughing and occasional eye contact with each other, and if I wasn't trying to stop myself from awkwardly chuckling, I was furiously glancing at the kitchen entrance in hopes of a servant to arrive with our first course. Lady Brontë was finally steadying herself, her face as red as a tomato, her thin fingers brushing her pale, almost white blonde hair back over her shoulders. She was remarkably thin, the gown doing barely anything to hide her natural frame, though this didn't hide from her incredible beauty.

Soon, a servant did come out of the kitchen entrance, pushing a mahogany cart along with him. Reaching our small square table, he silently refilled our hardly empty water glasses, and placed silverware and napkins in front of us. I removed the silverware from the napkin, unfolding the lilac purple material and placed it on my lap, un-deliberately instructing Lady Brontë to do the same with her napkin. The servant reached back to his cart, placing two napkin-covered bowls in front of us, then lifting both covers at the same time, revealing a reddish orange soup underneath.

"For your first course and starter, the chef has made a creamy tomato soup, with puréed sun-dried tomatoes, and garnished with fresh oregano and a drizzle of the reserved sun-dried tomato oil." The servant said, bowing before taking his leave and rolling off his cart back to the kitchen.

Picking up my spoon and prepared to dig into the soup, I noticed that Lady Brontë held up her own spoon and was gazing at the soup with a suspicious look.

"Is something wrong, Lady Brontë?" I asked. "I assure you that this is simply an old fashioned tomato soup, the servant only made it sound more exuberant than the soup really is for the sake of the mood," I said, joking and trying to lift her spirits.

"Oh, well, alright then," Lady Brontë said unsurely, gently and slowly descending her spoon into the soup, which I did as well, and allowed a moderate amount of the hearty soup onto the spoon. She lifted the spoon to her mouth and sipped, her round blue eyes almost popping out in surprise. "Wow...wow," she said admiringly, staring at the soup, "it's not like any tomato soup I've ever had before...in a good way."

"You just wait for it," I said, winking. "This is only the first course."

We finished the first course in less than ten minutes, with Lady Brontë absolutely devouring the tomato soup, despite my playfully ample encouragement that she slow down and save room for the next three courses. For once, Lady Brontë was not embarrassed by her actions, which was a good sign that she might be opening up to me more, and she seemed extremely excited for the next course. I could assume safely that Lady Brontë probably had never at a dinner even close to something like this evening, and I guessed that she most likely never had freedom like this before, with a full plate in front of her and just for herself.

The second course was a Sweet Potato Ravioli, with truffle oil vinaigrette and asiago. Lady Brontë had taken my advice to slow down, and on this next course, she ate slower than I did, appreciating all the flavors and tastes. In the approaching sunset and the glow of the candles, Lady Brontë seemed to glow in the light, like a beacon of pure light in the middle of the warm autumn season. I couldn't help but stare, although she didn't notice me, too engrossed in her dinner, this brought me back to the realization that I would have to choose a girl to marry at the end of this Selection. It wasn't as simple as just becoming King at the end of this whole thing, but I would also come out with a wife, my Queen. I had to choose out of these twenty nine girls left, and I was on a date with just one of them, who was making it so hard for me to consider anyone else as a potential partners.

According to my father, he had originally been captured by another girl in his Selection, not my mother—who he made me promise to never tell this story to. And he loved her with all his heart, so much that no other compared or mattered in his eyes. Until the accident. He never gave any details, nor could I find anything when I tried to search up the topic, but only that this "accident" took away the girl he loved more than the sky and stars.

 _Never put your trust into someone else's hands_ , he once told me when I was very young, _they will only break it._

Although I went against his wishes.

I had fallen in love.

But to this day, I have no idea if I will ever regret what happened, or if I will be able to love anyone else as much as I loved her.

"Are you finished with that?" Lady Brontë asked, pointed at my own plate and breaking me out of my trance of thought.

I nodded, mustering a grin. "You can have the rest of it, if you'd like. You could use the extra food."

She lifted her own empty plate over to my side as I did the same with my plate, and while trading the dishes, I noticed that my hand looked to be twice the size of her hands. I could only wonder what it would be like to hold her hand, watching while she lifted my plate from my hands and down to her spot on the table.

"What does that mean? 'You could use the extra food.'" She muttered dryly under her breath, stuffing three of the ravioli into her mouth.

I outright laughed louder than I ever had during that date, making Lady Brontë jump and half-glare at me. "Sorry for laughing," I said, managing through my deep chuckles. "But what you just said. It sounded nothing like the Brontë that first came out here."

Lady Brontë blushed, her frame shrinking slightly back into her chair. Perhaps it was my laugh that made her shy once more, or maybe that I called her "Brontë" without "Lady" at the beginning. Lady Brontë's fork was now picking at the plate, occasionally actually eating some of the ravioli, her eyes avoiding meeting my own. I gave her a questionable grin, realizing that I had opened her personality up to me more, though it would clearly take more work that just one date for Lady Brontë to fully open up to me.

After about five more minutes, the servant came out again to take our plates and switched out our silverware and napkins, preparing for the main course that would be coming soon. Just as said, he came back a few minutes later with that same cart and one napkin-covered plate from the first course. He placed only one square plate in front of both of us, with each of us having our own smaller plate. Taking the napkin off the plate, the heavenly scent of perfectly made lamb and lavender swept up into the evening air.

"For your main course, the chef has prepared a family-style salt-baked leg of lamb with olive oil potatoes, and garnished with lavender, sea grapes, and sea beans." He said informatively, placing down fresh napkins, silverware, and a steak knife resting on the side of the square plate with the lamb. Lady Brontë and I thanked him as he walked away, then turned to each other.

"Your Highness, er, Lord Caspian. I was wondering if you could actually just call me Brontë, I think that I'd like it more that way. And it's simpler!" She said nervously, trying to sound encouraging at the end, though her adorable awkwardness failed her.

"Sure, _Brontë_ ," I answered jokingly. "But only as long as you call me Caspian. None of that 'Your Highness' or 'Lord Caspian' nonsense."

"I still have to call you Lord Caspian in front of other people, right?" She questioned again.

"Technically yes, and I have to address you as Lady Brontë in accordance to the social rules around here," I said, rolling my eyes as I referenced the social rule book that we were raised to know since birth. "But let's fall into casualty, since I'm sure that our server won't go running to King Axel about how we were using each other's first names. And eat this delicious lamb, which is smelling far too good for me to ignore."

Brontë grinned shyly, as I humorously gestured for her to take the first slice of the lamb, and I wasn't kidding when I had said that this lamb was smelling far too good for me to ignore. After she took her slice, I reached for my own, though the lamb slipped off my fork and onto the table, staining the perfectly crisp white table cloth, and Brontë choked on her lamb while laughing. I responded with a sarcastic: "hardy har har," while finally dragging the slice onto my plate and eating the delicious meat without a care in the world and a garnish of arrogance.

We ate silently, though luckily it was a comfortable silence, with just the two of us enjoying the dinner. The sunset had finally came down to a perfect level, appearing as if the golden globe was slowly descending into the sparkling ocean blue-and-gold Angeles waters. The few clouds in the sky were lit up in beautiful colors of deep purple and sunset oranges and brilliant pinks, making the Angeles sky look like something out of a painting. Suddenly an idea hit me.

"Brontë, stop eating," I said, quickly standing up and pushing my chair back. "Come with me."

Brontë frowned, confused, but still put down her fork and knife, standing up to take my hand. "What are you doing?"

I smirked at her. "We're going to watch the sunset."

She tilted her head to the side in question. "But we can see the sunset just fine from here."

"Dearest Lady Brontë," I said, feigning surprise, "you have not seen the true Angeles sunset until you have scaled the roof of the Palace and watched the sunset from the top of the Palace. And it would be such a waste to throw away a chance of seeing the sunset on such a beautiful Autumn evening."

"Scale the roof?" Brontë cried out in a whisper. "I don't ever exercise, I hardly even take the stairs. Nevertheless climb the roof of the Palace!"

"Well, there's a first time for everything," I said, winking. "Just try not to die."

"Really? I didn't realize." She said sarcastically, though placed her hand in mine when I offered it. And began following me to a wall that had many indents that appeared to be good footholds. Brontë kept muttering about how much of a horrible idea this was, and somewhere in there was a "if I fall, Caspian, I'm pulling you down with me."

 _She really does have small hands_ , I thought.

"We want to be fast so we get to the top before the sunset is gone," I commented, looking at the wall and testing some of the grip holds, then my gaze went down to where Brontë's shoes must have been under gown. "For you, it's probably hard enough to climb in that dress. So it depends on what does you are wearing."

Brontë rolled her eyes. "Well I'm sure that this four-inch high heels are going to be no help then." She lifted up her skirts high enough for me to get a glimpse of her rose gold high heels with silver rose embellishments, clearly made for appearance instead of comfort or usability.

" _Yeah_ , I think that you'd probably be better off without those heels, and barefoot." I responded, grimacing at how painful those shoes must have been for her to wear.

"You get used to the pain after sometime," Brontë said, wincing as she took the high heels off. "At least that's how it's supposed to work. But I'd prefer being barefoot to this murder weapons any day."

"Perfect! Now we can start climbing," I exclaimed, "and you can use one of the chair to boost you up if you can't reach the ledge of the roof."

Brontë looked skeptically at the large bowl chairs, her bare feet feeling the cool slate tiles. "Actually, if you don't mind. Could you maybe, uh, hoist me up?"

My grin widened as I kneeled on the ground. "Hop on board!" I said, feeling like an overjoyed kid at Christmas. Brontë hesitantly reach for my shoulders and cautiously climbed onto my back, so that she was on my shoulders piggyback ride style. I slowly stood up, getting used to the extra weight on my shoulders, while Brontë gripped the top of my head as if she moment she lightened up her grip, she'd fall right off the Palace walls. Of course I would never let that happen.

"Gosh, you're so tall," she muttered, "like, unnecessarily tall."

"Genetics are a crazy thing, aren't they?" I said, laughing while I brought her right next to the lowest part of the roof. I was tall enough and the roof was low enough that all Brontë had to do was roll onto the grey roof tiles and she'd be perfectly situated. Brontë did as so, though once on the roof, she had dug her fingers tightly into the tiles and was hanging on like a cat.

I stifled a laugh as I took a couple steps backwards to prepare for the jump onto the roof. I ran at the wall, my fingers grabbing at the roof tiles and my feet edging themselves in the footholds, and with a few pulls, I was right next to Brontë on the roof. I stood up on the roof, finding that the climb to the top was reasonable steep, though not so much that we need to hoist ourselves up. I smirked down at where Brontë was still holding onto the tiles like a cat.

"'Tis is the easy part, m'lady. Shan't we go climbing upwards now?" I teased, faking a horrible high pitched British accent.

"That wasn't even proper Shakespearean English," Brontë muttered in return, clinging onto my arm. "So much to teach you."

* * *

We finally had made it to the top of the roof, and I was almost exhausted. Not that the short, not-that-steep walk to the top was that hard, but the fact of Brontë had made be basically drag her to the top. It wasn't annoying, the look on Brontë's face when we reached the top was definitely worth the exhaustion. At first she was absolutely terrified, because as the walk to the top of the roof was not that long, we were already at the roof patio, which was already quite high up. This was only the tip of the iceberg.

Although when Brontë looked up the shy, her face turned from terror to amazement. She watched the sea, lost in the rhythmic percussion of waves on sand. Her light blue eyes, almost grey in the bright light of the sun, were steady to the horizon, now unafraid of falling and captured in the golden light of the sun. Brontë's pale face was aglow with the with the last orange rays before twilight beckoned the stars to the sky. Her lips bared the semblance of a smile, just enough to show that she was enjoying his thoughts, whatever they may be. I moved closer so that Brontë felt my safe presence, yet I stayed quiet, allowing her to stay lost in the moment a while longer.

"Would it be rude to say that this is my favorite part of the date," Brontë said quietly, not meeting my eyes. She walked backwards to sit on the metal roof crease, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her small ears.

I gave her a lopsided grin, sitting next to her on the bench. "Sometimes the best parts are the most unexpected."

Brontë nodded, fiddling with her fingers as the orange sunset lightened up her facials to make them somehow more soft and delicate than they already were. "I've always hated the color orange, though seeing this sunset kinda makes me rethink that decision."

"What color do you like then?" I asked, leaning back against the metal roof crease in patience.

"Hmm," she jokingly feigned deep thought. "I'd probably have to choose a light pink. I always get offended when people say that pink is such a 'girly color' or that's it's so cliché, because I don't think so. Pink is the color of my sister Ophelia's cheeks almost every single day. It's the color of the sunrise just before you can see the sun peak over the horizon. It's the color of millions upon millions of beautiful flowers. It's the color of love and shows a certain amount of innocence that people should not overlook." Brontë spoke pensively, her facials finally at pease and relaxation.

"When I was young, I loved colors more than anything." I admitted, a fact about myself that seemed more personal and raw than it should be. "I loved the uniqueness that color gave to everything in the world, how every color was uniquely beautiful and could never be exactly the same."

"Like the sky," Brontë added softly, finally meeting my eyes. "Somedays the sky is the most brilliant blue, and on other days, the sky is dark and gloomy. Yet whenever I see those color samples in stores of 'Sky Blue' or 'Cloudy Grey,' I always think about how that manufactured color is nothing compared to the real thing."

"I used to have this water coloring notebook when I was a kid, one that I would carry around with me everywhere. And when I saw a color that I would particularly like, I would try to recreate it on my notebook with the watercolors." I said, touching my fingers together, in the remembrance of my once-watercolor-stained fingers. "Warren's golden blond hair, Winnie's emerald green eyes wit the little flecks of gold in them that you can only see in the sunlight—"

"You know," Brontë interrupted, now looking slightly nervous. "I don't like to gossip, but I overheard a few other girls in the Women's Room talking about how they believed that girls like Winnie and Lena participating in the Selection is a bit unfair. As since they have past experiences with you and the other Candidates, the playing ground isn't fair for them to have a better chance at, uh, being chosen as the _One_."

I sat shocked. _Was this really what the ladies thought_?

"Of course Winnie and Lena are extremely nice and likeable," she said reassuringly, "I'm just repeating a concern from the other girls."

"Well, I don't really know how to solve that problem. I mean, I can't just randomly eliminate both of them!" I exclaimed ruefully, frowning down at my feet, the last embers of the golden sun reflecting in a warm amber glow off my leather shoes.

"Goshdammit, I just made this date a whole new level of awkward," Brontë groaned into her hands.

"No, no, no. It's fine, I completely understand." I admitted, instinctively wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to my body. Brontë followed suit, resting against my shoulder and my arm wrapped comfortably around her back, until a few minutes after quietly watching the sunset. We, mostly Brontë, realized what an intimate position we were placed in. Brontë coughed awkwardly, sitting up to straighten her spine and flatten out her messed up tulle skirts.

"Perhaps we should start our descent back down to the patio," Brontë commented reflectively, looking in the direction of where we climbed up, now without fear. "Let's hope that the sprawled chairs and shoes don't catch the eye of a servant, who calls for a nationwide search for the Lord Valencia and whoever that girl was that he was apparently on a date with."

I laughed softly. "Oh, I assure you that we'll be fine. I'm well-known around the Palace for my... _improvisations_."

"God, this was the most terrifying experience I've ever had," she mused, throwing her hands down to steady herself as she stood up. "A terrifying, though beautiful, improvisation, Your _High_ -ness."

"That was a horrible pun, just horrible," I spoke, making words between my laughter, rising to meet Brontë standing up although I was almost a full foot taller than her.

"You laugh a lot," Brontë added, her eyes focused on the walk downwards, one hand grabbing loosely at my arm in a safe hold.

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked in response, raising an eyebrow even though I knew she couldn't see my face.

"No. I like laughs. They're like a joyful scream," she joked.

"That's one way to put it," I said, laughing again. "A tad smudge morbid, but there's nothing wrong with that."

"The silliest things." Brontë laughing, meeting my eyes as we reached the bottom of the roof's descent.

Sure enough, a group of servants were surrounding our table with worried looks. Probably debating over whether this was just another one of my impulsive disappearing antics or if there was possibly a real problem at hand that was to be of concern.

Brontë smiled. "Let's finish it off with dessert then?"

* * *

 **I promised that I would eventually get an Update Schedule together, and I did! I will now be trying to update every Wednesday, according to my Californian time, which should be either the middle of the night or morning for the rest of you guys, depending on where you live. And thank you to all my reviews and readers who have waited with me until the point where I finally got all my shit together, I love and appreciate you guys so much! Also, did you know that it's easier to write fluffy chapters while listening to really dark music? Or that it's easier to write darker chapters while listening to lighter music? Though maybe that's just me, lol. See you guys next week for Chapter Nine!**

 **IMPORTANT: I will be in London when I update with Chapter Nine, so the timing of the update will be different from which it usually is, though I'm writing the next chapter now so I'll hopefully be able to finish the chapter in time to update. If not, then you guys will probably be getting a double update!**


	9. Chapter Nine

The Complexes of Love

 _Vulnerable_

There is strength

in vulnerability,

in facing your demons

and knowing that

kindness is more important

in spite of the,

To be vulnerable

is to be brave.

\- Chrissie Finney

 **Lochlen Illéa**

From what I had heard from the gossiping of passing servants' mouths and the gossip magnet that was my very own brother, Caspian's Date with Lady Brontë had gone extremely well, though for some reason, make that an honest reason, caused a slight panic between all the staff working at that time. A search party had almost been sent out for Caspian and Lady Brontë apparently, although the pair had arrived from their _roof climb_ to watch the sunset right before the servants sent out the call for a search party. I was sure that Warren was probably squirming and throwing a fit over a lack of protocol.

I couldn't help wonder about what would happen if Warren fell in love with a girl who couldn't stand protocol and demanding rules.

Anyways, since Caspian, Warren, and I couldn't think of a reliable, fair way to choose our dates after the Intelligence Test, we went with the traditional pulling cards with the individual name of each lady on a different stick. Caspian had pulled Lady Brontë's stick-card, and they had their date on the night of the day we pulled the sticks. I had pulled the stick of Lady Allegra.

So understandably, I was freaking out.

I didn't know the first thing about Lady Allegra, other than the fact of that my mother and father had her own parents executed for treason, which was not the wisest first date topic. She was distant and almost rude in personality when we met her during the First Interview, the only fact saving her was that of Warren's insistence to get rid of the less impressionable Selected first. Lady Allegra was probably next on that list of Warren's Elimination Chart, though he would have needed either Caspian or my approval to eliminate her, the only other way of Elimination being a Council Elimination, of which rarely happened. The lady in turn was "rude, distasteful, and brought an unnecessary burden on the Royal Families of Illéa." All Warren's words, of course.

I just couldn't believe that was all Lady Allegra had to herself. Losing her mother and father must have been horrible for her, although I doubted she wanted my opinion on that topic. I could only hope that this date would distract from the inevitable lingering above us both.

* * *

"You should do something with your hair," Octavian remarked, running his nimble fingers through my spiky brown locks, as I sat in a chair at a vanity in his room. "God, you look like a frat boy. One who had way too much off-brand beer." He scorned, slapping the side of my head and muttering an Italian swear.

Wincing from Octavian's slap, I looked into the mirror, I saw Lena resting on her elbows on Octavian's bed, her shoes kicked off and hair undone in loose dark curls. She looked up from her magazine, _Illéa Central_ , smirking as she met my eyes. "You really do," she added, rolling over and looking at the pair of us over her shoulders.

"This is my horrible bedhead hair," I mumbled. "Just pass the hair gel, Tav."

"No, no, no." He insisted glaringly. "No. No hair gel."

"Then what am I supposed to do with _this_?" I asked sarcastically, gesturing to my wild head of hair.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Octavian shot back. "I need to account for wind resistance if you're going outside, or how your hairstyle should shape your features. You do realize that during the Summer, your skin turns a few shade darker, meaning that I have to choose clothes that make your skin tone—"

" _Please_ stop Tavvy," I interrupted tiredly, "I don't care how my skin tone looks against my clothes, or how my hair shapes my facial features. Just make me look appropriate for a date with a lady who I have absolutely no idea about."

"Well, I always knew I was the better looking twin," Octavian muttered, ignoring my rant of emotional turmoil, which made me more than the slightest bit upset.

"You suck," I responded in return, glaring upwards at him.

Lena gasped, throwing her magazine at my head. "Language, you little _culo!_ "

"That's unfair!" I shouted back. "You can't reprimand not even swearing, then do it yourself!"

" _Porca miseria_ , Loch," Octavian mused.

"You're not allowed to comment, either."

"All I was going to say was that I am enjoying seeing your whole 'shy, self-conscious' act go away," he teased, smirking at my frowning face. "You _might_ actually have a chance with a few of these girls if you drop the act."

"First of all, Tavvy, it's not an act. Frankly, I don't even know what is happening in my mind. I just see a girl, and I just get... _nervous_." I said, starting off strong then getting mumbling at the end, not sure where my words were going.

"Freakishly nervous," Lena joked.

"Luckily, I don't have that issue," Octavian said with a wink.

"Yah, yah, Tavvy." I responded lowly. "We can't all be you."

"Thank goodness, because one Tavvy is enough of him for the world." Lena rolled her eyes, fetching her magazine back from next to my chair, where the magazine landed after she through it at my head.

"Awe, I'm sure that you're all just jealous," he said innocently, flourishing at himself.

"Oh yes, of your _fantastic_ magic abilities, especially," Lena drawled, catlike-reflexes gracefully dropped her back onto Octavian's bed.

Octavian brushed off Lena's playful comment, turning his attention back to my messy hair. "Loch, right now, the only way I can know what hairstyle to give you is where your date is going to be."

Nervously, I twisted my fingers together, weaving my worries together along with my deeply toned fingers. "I couldn't really come up with one solid idea, so I—"

"Wait! Wait!" A childish yell came from behind Octavian's door, which I now noticed was propped open with a door marker. "I want to know."

Adria came bursting through the door, violently knocking the door marker clean out of the way. She wore a tulle blush pink dress that reached to her knees, with ruffled frills on the bodice of the light pink dress, and a large pink bow tied behind her back with the waistband. At her feet, were a pair of shiny golden flats, with little champagne-gold bows on the front. Adria's light brown hair was pulled back in an elaborate braid-bun, giving full view of her silver stud earrings, large dark brown eyes that matched my own pair, and upset pink face.

"Why hello, _la sorellina_ ," Octavian mused with the door shutting closed with a bang. His hands left my head of still-wild hair and went to the little Adria, picking her up and placing her on his lap as he sat next to Lena on his bed. I turned around in my swivel chair to face my little sister with a warm smile, while she looked completely pissed off, crossing her little, thin arms stubbornly and glared angrily enough to melt a house.

"Hello Adria," I said, rather intimidated by my little sister's childish frown for a clear reason of fear. "I take it that you would also like to know about my date plans."

"With _Lady Allegra_ ," Adria said smugly, instantly dropping her frown, and making kissy-faces that made my face hot with embarrassment.

" _Lochy_ has a _hot date_ ," Octavian added slyly, taking to bouncing Adria on his knee and making her giggle.

" _Inapropiado_ ," Lena scorned him, hitting Octavian in the side with a pillow.

"I saw her picture on _The Report_ and in the hallway, she's really pretty!" Adria gushed with cheeks a lovely pink.

"Prettier than me?" Octavian questioned, feigning seriousness.

Adria giggled in response. "Why don't you ever get a girlfriend, Tavvy?" She asked. "You should get a nice one like Loch!"

Octavian chuckled, as Lena and I exchanged looks of knowing. "I don't think that this is exactly the right time for that," he answered.

"What about Loch?" Lena mused. "What wondrous date plans does he have set up?"

Adria struggled free of Octavian's arms and ran to me, jumping up on my lap, melding her surprisingly small and skinny body against my chest, looking up at my eyes from her perch.

"Alright." I submitted. "Gather around."

Lena and Octavian rose from their spots on his bed, rushing over to my side with eager looks. Lena on my right, Octavian on my left, and Adria right in the middle, I whispered my full plan for the date with Lady Allegra Dorian of Calgary. From start to finish, illustrating every detail with surprising ease, and well received responses in return.

"Well then, you're definitely not going to be able to look like yourself," Octavian said with a feral grin.

* * *

Lady Allegra had agreed to meet me at the very edge of the Palace Gardens, despite the strange request. And I had told her to dress casually; not Palace casually, but as if we were both normal citizens. I — Octavian — had chosen a relatively casual outfit for me to wear, with a white undershirt, loose blue button-down shirt, tan jeans, and a pair of suede hiking boots. It was probably the most casual I had dressed in years, and instinct called for me to tighten the nonexistent tie around my nonexistent suit collar.

Walking through the trees and bushes of the garden, I looked around for Lady Allegra, spotting her sitting on a bench while on her phone. She followed my request, wearing clothes far more casual than my own. She wore an extremely low-cut thin black top, with worn cut off shorts, and a series of bracelets, necklaces, and rings. Finished off with a pair of old blue slip-ons, a black leather bag on her left shoulder, and a pair of blue sunglasses hanging from the v-neck of her shirt. As I approached closer, she looked up with straight and glossy dark brown hair blowing behind her in the light wind, slipping her phone back in her bag.

"Lady Allegra, um, I'm guessing that you would like to know why I asked you out here," I said, attempting lightheartedness, though Lady Allegra's blank face subsided my glimpse of barely-there confidence. "I, uh, made an arrangement so that we could have the date without guards."

She raised an eyebrow.

"We're going outside the Palace, into Angeles," I added uneasily, feeling uncomfortable from the lack of reaction from Lady Allegra.

"Without guards," she asked slowly, as if testing the words on her tongue and waiting for a correction. "Like normal people?"

"That was the idea," I responded timidly. "I thought it would be nice to get away from the commotion and craziness of the Palace, to explore the tourist parts of Angeles. Since I doubt that any tourists there will be expecting to see a Prince of Illéa and a Selected Lady without a dozen guards surrounding them."

Lady Allegra stood up from the bench, dusting off her long bare legs, and made her as tall as my mother while standing at her full height. She walked over to my side, straightening her bag's straps around her lean shoulders. "I guess that there'll be no more of that 'Lady Allegra' nonsense, because it would be quite the reveal for a random family of tourists to discover that they're asking the _Prince of Illéa_ for directions to the nearest bathroom."

* * *

As I opened the door to the dusty shop, a tingling bell went off, which brought the grumpy-looking old woman at the front desk of the shop to look up from her newspaper disgruntled. Her light brown eyes followed our every movement, from my holding open the door for Allegra, to Allegra's nose wrinkling when she smelled the sour-and-dusty scent of the shop we entered.

"What the hell is this place?" Allegra muttered into my ear, gripping my shoulder tensely. "It smells like someone—"

"Hey kids!" The old woman shouted from behind her desk. "I don't want any of you little rantipoles being pricks and messing around with my store. Got it?"

I jumped at the owner's voice, though gathered my words just in time. "Yes ma'am," I proclaimed with an awkward Boy Scout Salute, which made Allegra snicker beside me. I could help but wonder what _ranipoles_ meant, though I could easily guess the word didn't mean anything positive.

"It's working," Allegra murmured with a singsongy tune, heading deeper into the racks of random trinkets, farther away from the owner who had drifted back down to her newspaper. "But please tell me that you brought some sort of money, because I'm pretty sure that 'I'm the Prince of Illéa' doesn't count here."

"I've got us covered," I replied, "The Royal Allowance."

Allegra didn't even try to hid her sniggering to my comment.

"It's a Dollar Store, anyway, nothing should cost that much," I insisted, gesturing to the racks of half-priced tropical shirts.

"Alrighty then, Mister _Royal Allowance_ ," Allegra mused playfully, flinging a yellow straw fedora on my head, adjusting the sides until they partially covered my eyes and gave a satisfied grin that I could barely manage out when she was finished.

Restraining a few informal chuckles, I arranged the hat backwards so that I could see better, without taking the hat off of course. I followed Allegra to the very back corner of the Dollar Store, where trays full of cheap throwing darts were stacked in messy piles. A red-and-black dart board was hung up on the wall diagonal from the tray, and next to the dart board was a large, colorful map of Central Angeles. Allegra picked up one of the darts, winked at me, and aimed for the map instead of the dart board. Before I could ask a question, she threw the dart at the map, and it banged loudly into the wall behind the map where the metal-tipped dart hit. Wincing, I listened back for the owner of the store rushing down the aisles of trinkets to yell us out of her store, although luckily no such noise came.

"Sunset Plaza," Allegra read off the map, her finger pointing at the hole that the dart made after she pulled the metal tip out of the wall and placed it back into the tray. "We should go there."

"W-What?" I stuttered, staring incredulously at the map.

"Is there something wrong with that?" She asked, raising a perfect dark eyebrow.

"No-no," I managed out, taking deep breaths to slow my talking. "It's just, um, that was the plan I had come up with when I was thinking about our date."

"And?"

"It, uh, makes me feel a little unoriginal with my idea." I stifled my awkward laugh, wringing my fingers together tightly. "Though I only planned that we choose random places in Angeles to visit."

"Perfect! And now we have a map so that we use to find our way around," Allegra noted with an unusual amount of brightness, almost as she was trying to prove a point to someone. She pulled out one of the plastic wrapped rolled up maps and handed it over to my awaiting hands and wallet. I sighed and went along with Allegra's plan, her taking the lead as she walked us up to the front desk.

The owner looked up grumbling from her newspaper once again, taking into her own hands the map which I gently handed to her. She roughly yanked the map out of my hands, slamming her newspaper down on her desk, revealing the headline of the paper: _One Date Down. Who's Next? Find Out Here In Our Editor's Column!_

"You buying that hat?" The owner asked with a raspy tone, pulling shoulder-length wispy blonde hair behind her knobby shoulders.

"Um, uh," I rambled confusedly, looking to Allegra for advice, and receiving only a wink. "I guess...yeah."

I took the yellowy fedora off my head and on the desk for her to check off, and afterwards handing both the map and fedora back to me. Allegra reached for the map, and I plopped the hat back on my head, lowering the front flap around my eyes so I'd be less recognizable, which was especially important with all those newspapers and magazines going around about the Selection. I pull a clean twenty down on the desk, far more than whatever our map and fedora costed, and with a friendly "keep the change," Allegra and I left the store.

* * *

Sunset Plaza was hot, dusty, and per usual was crowded with tourists. With a wide arrangement of stores, restaurants, and boutiques lined the square sides of the cobblestoned Plaza square. Allegra and I fit in perfectly with the crowd of late summer-clothed shoppers and adventurists alike, window shopping, watching street performers and buskers, and stopping to get Bomboloni doughnuts—a personal favorite dessert of my mother's liking. Munching on the custard-and-raspberry filled doughnuts, we made our away through the crowd before we were stopped by a group of tourists who looked to be twenty-something, with hopeful looks on their faces.

"Sorry, but do you mind pointing us to the nearest train station," one of the girls asked, a mane of dark hair braided over her shoulders, with an Italian twang to her tone that I recognized from family reunions on my mother's side.

"No problem," I said assuringly. "Please mind my asking, but are you visiting from Italy?"

"Yes in fact! We are staying here for the next two weeks, and I'm playing translator for all my friends here," she said brightly. "My name is Gianna, and thank you for helping us."

" _Posso aiutarla in Italiano_?" I asked, "Can I help you in Italian?"

Gianna's friends perked up, and I suddenly felt a lot like Octavian with all their attention on my voice. Allegra cleared her throat loudly, dragged my vision back to her tall frame. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow, starting our mental conversation.

 _What are you doing?_

 _Helping them find the nearest train station._

 _Sure. Go right ahead._

I took that as my signal to go ahead with helping the girls, who appeared to be at least four years older than the pair of us. I unrolled the map we had bought to show the girls which direction to go in.

" _In primo luogo, proseguite dritti su questa strada. Poi girare alla seconda a sinistra. Infine andare dritto in avanti e la stazione ferroviaria ci sarà_!" I instructed with a friendly smile.

"Mind translating back to English so I can understand?" Allegra quipped.

"First, go straight ahead down this road. Then turn to the second on your left. Finally, go straight forward and the train station will be there." I responded with a tone just over a whisper, waving to the tour group who were on their way down the plaza. It gave me a piece of happiness to help the tour group, bringing a smile to my face.

"Thank you very much," she mused, biting into her donut. Finishing off the final crumbles of the pastry, she brushed her fingers off on her silky black t-shirt. Allegra gestured my way for the map hanging out of the ring on my belt, I handed her the rolled-up map. She slowly walked over to a nearby bench while unraveling the map, Allegra sat down and placed the map on the bench. With the wind picking up, I decided to help her hold down the map, while she closed her eyes and randomly struck her index finger down on the map. Opening her eyes, Allegra lifted an eyebrow as she read off the location. "Zuma Beach," she perused off the lightweight map.

"Is that a good location for us to go next?" I asked apprehensively. I knew of Zuma Beach, it was extremely popular, especially during the late summer season. Although neither Allegra or I brought swimsuits with us on our date, and we were likely to be recognized by the public if we rented swimsuits at the beach. Allegra was dressed more for the warm weather than myself, she could probably get away with going into the water without getting her shorts wet, but I would have to roll up my tan jeans if I wanted to go into the water.

"I don't know," Allegra said playfully. "I've never been to an Angeles beach, and we don't have any warm beaches like here in Calgary. So it could be worth a try to see the beach, but if you don't want to test your luck with potentially being spotted and recognized, then I understand." She concurred, speaking my thoughts and worries aloud. I fought the urge to bit my lip and agree with her that it was probably to testy for us to go to such a popular Angeles local, but I recalled what Octavian had told me. _Try to bond and make a connection, even if it isn't exactly what you want to happen._

"No." I insisted with a strong voice, much to Allegra's obvious surprise. Softening my tone, "I mean, we should go to the beach. Because, um, it would be a good opportunity for us to...bond!" I said loudly, attracting the unwanted attention of a few passerby. Allegra's brown eyes widened in laughter, while my cheeks gained a warm, pink blush splashed on my complexion. "A good opportunity to bond" were probably not the right words to use, although I did manage to make Allegra laugh.

"Alright buddy," Allegra teased, raising a hand to ruffle my head of hair in a strange, almost-sisterly way. "Let's go use this 'good opportunity to bond'. Shall we?" I nodded my head like a mindless robot, following Allegra as she wrapped her arm around my own and lead me forward. She kept talking, mostly about the directions we were taking to get the beach which she read off the map, with a few colorful expletives thrown in whenever we took a wrong turn. We passed the beautiful mansions of the rich and famous, street markets full of food and clothing stalls, and almost all of downtown Angeles before we arrived at Zuma Beach in the early afternoon, one full hour later.

The sun shone brightly against the sparkling blue-green waves and the soft, golden sand beneath our shoes. A mix of the shouts of the droves of people and the crashing of the beach waves filled up the beach created an unusual harmony. Allegra grinned and slipped off her worn blue shoes, wiggling her toes in the sand. I pulled my fedora down more over my face, though not so much that it was obvious I was trying to hide my face, but if anyone looked hard enough, then they would recognize my face. If I was lucky enough, someone might mistake me for my more popular brother Octavian, and I would be free to honestly brush myself off as a simple lookalike.

"Are you coming?" Allegra asked, winking. Her voice shook me from my stupor, gazing over swarms of swimsuit-clad people, waves of green-blue water crashing into the nearby cliffs, and the small islands in the distance away from the shore of the beach. With my mind wandering, she had lead me over to a beach shack with rows full of small lockers, and just finished paying for the rent of one of the lockers. We placed our shoes in the locker, and I rolled up the legs of my pants while Allegra tucked the locker key in her shorts pocket. Allegra didn't seem like the type to giggle, squeal, have any reaction similar to that, but I could tell that she was thriving off the energy around her. She was also taking the lead with our date so far, which I was surprised that I was actually thankful for, since I'm sure that I would end up making some mistake without her unknowing guidance.

"I am, I am." I assured her, stretching out my uncovered toes and getting used to the crumbling sand beneath my feet. Allegra grinning and grabbed my hand, roughly pulling me along with her as she ran through the crowds of people to a more secluded part of the beach. Of course "secluded" had to be used lightly, considering that the beach was packed, but there were definitely far less people were we were. The ocean was a rippling sheen of brilliant aquamarine, different from the deeper blue where we had first arrived at the beach, with the foamy waves crashing along the cliffs of granite and grey stone. Flocks of seagulls squabbled above our heads, dipping their yellow beaks into the ocean like razor blades. The air was pungent with a fresh, salty scent, and if sunshine had a smell, it mixed in intoxicatingly with the briny air. As I approached the tide of the waves, the untouched, smooth sand that the waves that broken down into tiny fragments intimated me.

A gleeful laugh wiped my intimations away. Allegra was already in the water, deep enough that the warm water went up to just below her shorts. The waves around her looked like silvery white creases on a vast ocean of velvet, sweeping her up off her feet with every change in the tide, leaving her to fight against the ocean for control of herself. Watching her was mesmerizing, her face captivated in pure joy. I barely noticed that I had began walking through the gentle water towards her, my feet seeming to have a mind of their own. Allegra, despite her straight-cut emotions and reactions, had kept herself always restrained to a point, like she had a secret that she was defending with a knife hidden under her sleeve. But now Allegra was free of her restraint, the water appeared to wipe them away, and she looked younger as she dived all the way into the water. Her warm brown eyes were lit up in a thousand lights when she came back up, soaking from head to bottom, with her glossy dark brown hair now a raven black shade, and her inky black shirt stuck to her chest and framed her discernible curves.

Unfortunately, the smile faded from her face when we crashed into each other, the tide forcing us together. I managed an awkward laugh while Allegra made a displeased sound. We weren't so deep into the ocean that the tide was uncontrollably strong, so we pushed through the water to get back to the shore. Miraculously my fedora stayed attached to my head, but easily slipped off when Allegra and I collapsed on the sand. Allegra placed a hand on my chest to help pull herself up, then offered a hand to help me up when she was standing. Now we were both standing, soaking wet, and covered in sand. Allegra glanced down at herself and frowned, attempting to brush some of the sand off her long legs.

"That-that was excited," I offered, smiling a bit, and running my sand-covered hand through my matted brown hair. Allegra didn't verbally respond, but nodded grumpily. The sand may have been soft when we were walking on it before, but it was now uncomfortably sticking to ourselves as we started to dry off from the sun and humidity. I reached down to grab my fedora and shake the sand off before placing it back on my head.

"Yeah—" Allegra started to respond, but was cut off but the screaming of a woman.

"It's Prince Lochlen and Allegra Dorian!" The woman screamed, so loud that she might have well attracted the attention of the entire beach. Allegra nervously gulped next to me, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden attention, and started to back away. As people started to file closer in, I grabbed Allegra's hand.

" _Run_." I told her urgently, whispering in her hair. A split second after we started running, and the crowd started to run after us as well, probably recognizing Allegra first and then myself. We sprinted through an arch in the cliffs, our feet practically not touching the ground, as we swerved around people, plants, rocks, and the occasional sign I would almost crash into. All while running, we both let out whoops of laughter, though never once looking back to see if the crowd of people were still following us. Up ahead, I spotted a trolley, one that I knew would take us close to the Palace. I yelled something unintelligible to Allegra and pointed to the trolley, and she luckily got the idea. The trolley started moving before we got there, but I reached out and grabbed one of the poles and pulled Allegra up to me. She fell onto my chest and I could feel the adrenaline pulsating through her body, she was still laughing in a very un-Allegra like way. But she appeared happy, and that's what made me smile. Perhaps I did do something right today.

The trolley slowly made its way around the rest of Angeles, and finally found its way in front of the Palace. Thanking the trolley driver and giving him a tip, I hopped off with Allegra at my side. Although we didn't hold hands, but we were walking arm-in-arm. Instead of walking to where all the tourists were going, to the front gate, we went to the back entrance. The two guards standing at the small side door were surprised to see the pair of us outside of the Palace without any guards, but let us in once we proved our identities. One guard was sent to get Allegra's maids to help her back to her room and clean up for dinner, and another guard brought me a towel. Allegra and I walked through the halls together, and once I finished cleaning off my face with the towel, I handed it to her.

"Thanks," Allegra said, almost mumbling her words. I smiled lightly at her as she tightened her grip on the towel and brushed her hair out of her face. "You know, I actually had fun today." She said quietly, closing her eyes and moving the towel down her face. "I definitely didn't expect to, but I guess you proved me wrong."

I grinned happily, knowing that Octavian would be proud of me. Allegra dropped the towel from her face, wringing the cloth in between her fingers. She looked at me for a second before leaning in and lightly kissing me on the lips. I felt a blush spread across my cheeks, and Allegra smirked when she saw my reaction, her warm brown eyes turning calculating once again.

"And I mean it." Allegra added, widening her smirk. She handed me back the towel and turn back down another hallway to wherever she was going. But for the security time today, she left me enthralled in her wake.


	10. Chapter Ten

Serein

 _Serein_ (n.)

The fine, light rain that falls from a clear sky at sunset or in the early hours of night; evening serenity

 **Warren Schreave**

Here I was. Once only a small pawn, another minor character playing in the game for the paramount to use in their objective. Now I was soon to be King of Illéa, about to venture out on my first date with a potential Queen of Illéa. The lady in question was Margarita Atlas of Clermont, the daughter of Ambassador Winslow Atlas, the Illéan ambassador to England. She was strong, intelligent, beautiful, diplomatic, and well-suited for any position of power. I organized a date for us that would take us all over Angeles to see the greatest sights and end with a large publicized appearance at the opening of the new Sara Wolf Theatre. It would be fantastic for both of our images, and the press from the event would be wonderful for my parents' eventual return to Angeles.

Brushing a black crystal comb through my dirty blond hair, I reflected on when my parents would return from Lakedon in exactly a month from today, on the eve of Caspian's twentieth birthday. It would also be when the Valencia patriarch and matriarch would be returning from their diplomatic trip to Portugal, making the Palace a full house on that day, with all three families, all the nobles, the remaining Selected, and high profile guests crowded the looming arches of the Palace. Gwen, thankfully, remained at the Palace in Angeles with myself, though with nothing in mind but helping her prepare to marry the eldest Prince of England. I hadn't been able to spend much time with her lately, but perhaps she could meet with some of the Selected and bond with a couple of the girls, none of whom I would marry if Gwen disapproved of them.

"Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great," I murmured to myself, reciting my favorite Shakespearean quote. "Some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them." I gave my suit one last look over, making sure my tie was straight and I appeared serious but approachable. Once I finished checking every detail, I headed out the door down to the Selected hallways, finding Margarita's room by the silver plaques with each Selected's name inscribed on the plate. Clearing my throat and pulling down the wrinkles on my dark green suit jacket, I knocked on her door and awaited the shuffling behind the door separating us.

"Earl Warren," Margarita said surprisedly once she opened the door, her maids apparently excused from her room. My focus was dragged to her appearance, which was less than professional. She wore a rose-colored romper that appeared to be made out of satin or silk, the shorts of the romper fell just above her mid-thighs, and the night shirt had long sleeves and was messily untucked partially from the ribbon belt of the shorts. A blue toothbrush hanged out of the corner of her mouth, and she held a towel to her lips to try and hide her mouth, while her dark brown hair fell wildly off her shoulders. "Please come in, sit anywhere you want, I'll be ready in a minute." She said, clearly embarrassed.

I pushed past the uncomfortably of the situation and took a seat on the small couch in front of her bed with an uneasy smile. Margarita rushed into her room's connected bathroom, where I could hear her turn on the faucet and let the water run. After a few minutes of scurrying behind half-closed doors, Margarita emerged once again — now with her hair brushed and romper straightened to a slightly less casual level. Her cheeks were tinted pink though she managed to get her calm and talk with a clear, undaunted voice.

"Earl Warren—" She began before I cut her off.

"Please, just Warren. We might as well get familiar with one another," I said with a friendly smile, standing up to meet at her height, which I noticed was an inch or so above my own height. I didn't find it intimidating, but rather encouraging to be more established in the room. I casually laughed, only long enough to help lift the awkward tension from our unusual meeting.

"Call me Marga, then," she said with a pleased face. She was referring back to our first meeting, with her father and the Illéa and Valencia families — a meeting that did not go down well from my point of view. Instead of reacting from a reminder of that meeting, I smiled and agreed politely.

"Perfect, we must be connecting already," I said jokingly, evoking a laugh from Marga. She gestured for the pair of us to take a seat on her couch, and our conversation became more casually formal.

"So what brings you to my room?" She asked curiously, cocking her head to the side in question. I looked at her confusedly, recalling the letter I had sent to her chambers just a day ago.

"Did you not receive my letter?" I questioned her, my eyebrows furrowing together with concern. Marga shifted in her seat and confusion started to slip onto her features.

"Yes, I got a letter," she began with a careful voice, and my interest was deepened. "But it wasn't from you, it was from Caspian and Winnie. They invited me, along with a few other Selected, to a small get-together party in her room. That's why I'm wearing my pajamas so early in the evening, I was going to head over to Winnie's room after I finished brushing my teeth, but then you came in. I'm really sorry, I should have checked first that I had no other things scheduled. If you give me a moment, I could send Caspian a letter that I can't go to his party, and we can go on with your plan."

A surge of anger filled my body, but I willed my face to keep steady and calm. _How dare Caspian ruin my date with Marga_? It couldn't be just coincidence, I had pulled Marga's stick at the drawing, so he must have realized and purposely invited her to ruin my plans. "No, don't bother," I said, a sickly-sweet tone on my voice and a calculating grin on my lips. "I'll come along, I'm sure that it'll be great for both Caspian and I to get to know you all _together_."

* * *

Once Marga and I reached Winnie's suite, muffled noises and voices could be heard from behind the door. My fiendish, diabolical grin had only widened with imagining all the ways I could torture Caspian Valencia — who proved himself a valiant opponent — but he was no match for my conniving mind. I was sure that Marga could feel the tension radiating from my essence, but she wisely stayed silent about the topic. Reaching out a hand, she knocked gently on the door and exciting voices from behind the door of our arrival. The door swung open and revealed a blonde, sleepwear-clad Winnie Serris, who grinned at the sight of us.

"Marga, so glad that you came," Winnie said happily, reaching out for a quick hug between the two girls. The younger blonde girl had to be at least ten inches shorter than the older, darker-haired girl, and she barely reached up to Marga's upper chest when they hugged. Still, the girls exchanged smiles and Marga entered the room to a chorus of welcoming voices. I coughed when Winnie pointedly ignored me, and started to close the door before I stuck my foot between the latch and the door. Winnie turned back lazily to me, an unassuming look on her face. "Yes?" She asked, feigning boredom.

"I want to come in," I spoke pointedly, glaring at her face as she played innocently with her perfect blonde cork-screw curls. She wore a small pair of rose-patterned shorts with a cloth bow tied loosely around her hips and a pullover sweater that read: _You Couldn't Handle Me Even If I Came With Instructions_. It was a bit detrimental to my serious disposition with Winnie acting so casual, and the whispering murmurs from inside the room confirmed my suspicions.

"Let me ask them," Winnie said with a lazy smile. She turned around and swiftly kicked my foot back, causing me to hiss in pain, so that she could shut the door as she conversed with the rest of the group — and surely Caspian. Recovering from the slight pain, I tapped my foot on the ground impatiently. They weren't talking as loudly as they were beforehand, so I couldn't hear them from where I was standing. But after a few minutes, a soft shuffling reached my ears and I perked up at awaiting the response.

Winnie opened the door once more with a more-than-annoyed look and sighed displeasingly. "We voted. It was four to two. And unfortunately, you may enter." She opened the door wider and stepped back to let me in, but not before subtly replacing a foot forward for me to trip over, though I avoided the foot by stepping farther than her reach. "There is one catch though," Winnie added, smirked when I turned back to her. "You have to play Truth or Dare with us."

"No." I said quickly and firmly. "I'll just watch and be a moderator."

"Dear, darling Warren, that's not how the game works," a deeper male voiced called out teasingly. My eyes focused on where a smirking Caspian Valencia stood, leaning against a cream-colored bannister. Another heat of anger rose up in me when I remembered his past actions. "It's such a shame that your letter never got to Lady Marga, I'm sure you would have had a wonderful night. I could only imagine wherever your letter went!" Caspian spoke with feigned sympathy, a devilish grin creeping up behind his relaxed demeanor. "Though now you can join us with a pleasant game of Truth or Dare!"

Before I could respond to Caspian's blatantly scheming words, he came up and slapped me harshly on the back. Shoving me forwards and off-balance, making me momentarily appear inferior to his taller, stronger frame. I gathered my strength and walked forward alongside Caspian, a look of blazing anger screaming to have prominence on my face, and Winnie followed behind us, clearly amused by the situation. As we walked further into the suite, which was somehow larger than the other Selected bedrooms, I was met with an array of familiar faces.

"May I present Ladies Marga, Jordan, Tessa, and the darling Lady Matilda." Caspian said dramatically with a wave of his hand over the girls seated against various pillows and blankets, with bowls of different snacks set out all over the floor, with particularly many of the bowls surrounding Tessa. Matilda rolled her eyes with a playfully sour look on her face, slapping Caspian's leg in response, and earning a laugh from the latter.

"Hello and welcome, Earl Warren," Jordan said with a small smile.

"Please, call me Warren," I said routinely, my eyes wandering over the room — a small living room — as I took a seat in-between Tessa and Jordan.

Winnie and Caspian stood next to each other, the height difference hardly noticeable while sitting down. "Ladies and gentlemen, now that everyone is here, we can get started with the main event tonight. Truth or dare!" Winnie said excitedly, receiving laughs and light applause in return.

"Hold on," Tessa said, struggling to stand up in her Christmas-patterned onesie, and keeping the hood over her ears. "We agreed to play with the cards."

"What?" I asked her as she went to go grab a scarlet red box from one of the bookshelves.

"I don't that any of us actually trust Tweedledee and Tweedledum here to actually be fair with their dares and questions, so we're using the cards." Tessa said teasingly, rolling her blue-green eyes and referring to Caspian and Winnie. She grabbed the box of _Truth or Dare?_ cards and plopped back down on the spot where she sat earlier, Caspian and Winnie following suit. She opened the box and placing the two different sets of cards in two piles. The _Truth_ cards were placed on the right and were a olive green color. While the _Dare_ cards were placed on the left and were an apple-red color. "How about I think of a number and the person closest starts us off?" Tessa asked, flipping a curl of dark brown hair over her shoulder. We all murmured our agreements, and Tessa continued. "Okay, I'm thinking of a number between one and fifty."

I didn't particularly want to start the game, so I said eight, which I hoped was not probably the slightest bit close to the real number. Matilda said seventeen, Jordan said twenty nine, Marga said fifty, Winnie said forty seven, and Caspian said thirty six. Tessa then revealed that her number was forty eight, and thus Winnie was the closest and was the first person to play the game.

"Truth or dare?" Tessa asked, grinning in excitement with her lightly tanned hands hovering over the cards.

"Truth." Winnie responded, smirking and leaning back with her arms crossed.

"Ugh, you're no fun." Tessa groaned jestingly, pulling up the card and reading it with narrowed eyes. "What traits make you a good cheerleader?"

"What the hell even are these questions?" Matilda asked out loudly, snatching the card from Tessa's hand and frowning as she read the card.

Winnie smirked at Matilda, then turned back to Tessa and looked the girl straight in the eyes with a mischievous grin. "Oh, that's an easy one. First of all, I'm prettier than you, and I have great spirit!" Winnie said matter-of-factly.

"Being prettier than me doesn't make you a better cheerleader." Tessa responded with a scowl marring her features, although the playfulness of the situation could be seen in both girls' eyes.

"I got you to admit that I'm prettier than you at least," Winnie added jokingly. She winked at the darker haired girl, who rolled her eyes and gave a shit-eating grin. Tessa leaned over to Winnie and collapsed her whole body weight on the blonde girl, and Winnie yelped out in surprise. Tessa shifted so that she was sitting against Winnie's chest, pinning the smaller of the two down so that she couldn't get up. Winnie cried out again and received snickers and laughs from everyone in the room. I looked Winnie in the eye and smirked, which she returned with bared teeth like a wild animal. "Who's next?" Winnie asked, groaning from under Tessa.

"I guess I am," Jordan answered, raising a tan hand and her startlingly blue eyes looking up from under her curtain of curled chocolate brown hair. Her fingers tightened around her grey-and-white striped pajamas as she gave a nervous smile.

"Truth or dare?" Winnie asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

Jordan cleared her throat and sat up straight. "Dare," she said bravely with a strong look on her face that easily said she was prepared for anything.

Winnie laughed evilly and reached for the _Dare_ card, but when she couldn't reach it, Tessa rolled her eyes and got the card for her. "Thank you Tess," she grumbled, grabbing the card from the other girl's hand. "Oh this is a good one, _finally_. Okay, it says: Text something funny or weird to a random number."

Jordan turned bright red, obviously not expecting such a card. "Oh-okay," she said shakily, drawing a leather-clad phone out of the pocket of her cotton pajamas. Turning on her phone, Jordan paused and looked up questioningly, but looked back to her phone and typed in a random number with her eyes closed. "What should I text?" She asked, gesturing to the typing pad.

Matilda grinned mischievously and tapped on Jordan's shoulder, pulling her in for a whisper. After a few moments, Jordan laughed easily and pulled back, and finished typing something into her phone with quick fingers. She drew in a big breath as for special effect and pressed send on the text.

"What did it say?" Marga asked eagerly, her eyes darting to the text and trying to read the tiny words.

Jordan looked at Matilda and laughed again. "I said: 'hey, I'm waiting in the woods with the machete and potato. Where the fuck are you?"

We were all shocked into a stunned silence before Jordan and Matilda cracked with laughter and the rest of us joined in. I laughed as well, though I couldn't help but wonder what the response might be. We all laughed for a little while longer, with plenty of jests aimed at Jordan and Matilda were muttered between gasps of laughter.

"Jordan," Tessa choked out between waves of body-racking laughter. "It's your turn to ask _Truth or Dare_ for Matilda."

"Yes, yes," Jordan answered, giggling when Matilda playfully slapped her shoulder. "Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," Matilda answered in response, with a demeanor strong as ice and a smirk floating above her lips.

Jordan reached for the _Dare_ card that Tessa was holding out, the latter rolling her eyes. Jordan's electrifyingly blue eyes skimmed over the thin card before collapsing into fits of laughter once more. At this point, everyone besides Matilda and I, looked red in the face and quite drunk — although no one touched alcohol all night.

Eventually, Jordan gathered enough words to finally speak. "It-it says: spend Seven Minutes in Heaven with the person sitting across from you."

Matilda looked up shocked and met my eyes, the pair of us realizing that we were sitting across from each other. Caspian apparently realized this as well, and promptly began ushering us closer to a nearby broom closet. I heard many snide and teasing remarks from the likes of Winnie, and a few jokes coming from Caspian himself. I was still in a state of shock that I didn't bother fighting back, though the same could not be said for Matilda. She was arguing and pushing back, but I snapped out of my daze in time to grab her arm.

"Just go along with it," I whispered harshly in her ear. "It's only seven minutes and we don't actually have to do anything."

Matilda grunted as I pulled her into the broom closet and the door was shut behind us. "Yeah, but I don't particularly to spend full seven minutes alone with _you_ ," Matilda shot back, snatching her arm from my grip.

"Well, sweetheart, you aren't exactly a walk in the park either," I snapped back at her small frame.

Matilda looked up incredulously, with radiating anger behind her kohl-lined brown eyes. "Did you just call me sweetheart?" She asked slowly, the intensity laying down brick-by-brick. I quickly recoiled from this tiny, five-foot-two punk rock star with a known temper to match the heaviness of her daily outfits. I almost felt pathetic, but recalling the look of Lochlen's face after our first meeting with her brought back a sting of my dignity. _At least I wasn't the only one terrified of the blunt, curly haired menace_.

"No–no! I didn't mean it that way—" I stuttered while her fluctuating infuriation backed me against the wall in the small closet we were forced in.

"Let me return the favor, _sweetheart_." Matilda said eerily, like a cat before it pounced on a mouse. She got closer and I held my breath, and once she was within about two inches of my face, she began yelling curses and insults at the top of her lungs. I felt the hair on my arms rise, my face turn white, and my eyes shutting tightly against the incoming storm. Occasionally, Matilda pounded a fist against my arm or my chest — although not hard enough to leave anything more than a light bruising. I tried to get my mind to drift away while the little cat screamed into my red face, but the little cat kept pulling me back into reality with her harsh words and physical pushes. "AND THAT'S WHY YOU NEVER MESS WITH A MAYWEATHER!" Matilda shouted at the top of her lungs, giving me one final push in the chest, which I grunted from, before she marched out of the broom closet and slammed the door open with a tremendous bang. I peeked my head up from my meekly hiding place, and I could see that Matilda had taken her place against a pile of pillows and was quite red in the face. The rest of them were all looking into the closet with curious glances, which confirmed that they could all easily hear what happened and what was said. I turned red again, but managed to gather enough energy on my weak legs to stumble out the door and basically fall back onto the pillows.

"That was only six minutes, you still have another full minute in there," Winnie commented loudly, scorning Matilda and I. Though a light smirk bestirred her face in accordance to what _actions_ we did participate in.

Caspian raised his hand, a small smirk beseeching his innocent look. "I'll take that last minute with Ren!" He called, winking at my disgusted face. Matilda and Winnie sniggered, while Tessa and Jordan sighed in amused pity, and Marga laughed softly.

"Unfortunately, we don't have time for that _precious_ last minute," Jordan finally said. "We should move along with the game." She flashed me a sympathetic smile, making me realize that she was helping me, which I returned with a mental 'thank you' and a promise to ask her on another, more private date later.

"Always playing the mother, Jojo," Winnie responded with an exasperated sigh. "Who's next?"

"That would be me," Marga piped up.

"Truth or dare?" Matilda asked, though she was more distracted with shooting daggers into my head with her eyes.

"Truth," Marga answered with a warm smile.

Matilda picked up a _Truth_ card and read out the question. "Who scares you the most...in the Palace."

"Hey! No additional adding!" Tessa warned.

Matilda shrugged. "It says to add in wherever you are."

Tessa paused, understanding. "Oh, okay. Marga?"

Marga blushed and looked down. "I'd have to say Duchess Odelia — she terrifies me."

"I second that." Caspian snorted, raising his hand towards Marga for a high five, which she awkwardly returned.

"But she's your mother," Marga said surprisedly.

Caspian laughed again. "It doesn't mean that she can't be terrifying at some points. Remember, I had to grow up with her always keeping me on my toes."

"I don't think that she ever liked me," Winnie commented, grimacing at a memory.

"No, no. You were the only one that she actually liked more than Ash," Caspian responded.

I raised an eyebrow. "Ash?" I asked. "Are you referring to that Ambassador's daughter, Aisling?"

Caspian looked awkward now, not meeting anyone's eyes which confirmed the answer to my question.

"Aisling Ronan? I remember her," Marga said wistfully. "She was nice. But what did you ever have to do with her?"

"Don't tell me that you were cheating on me with her," Winnie joked. But I noticed that there was a flicker of worry behind the girl's emerald green eyes. Almost everyone knew that Winnie once held feelings for Caspian, although when the younger girl moved all the way to Waverly at the age of twelve. Perhaps her feelings were returned by Caspian during a time, but now Caspian clearly didn't think of her as anything other than a friend. I almost felt bad for her.

"That's a story for another time." Caspian chuckled awkwardly.

Tessa grinned. "Tell us about—" She was cut off by a short, high pitched shriek all the way across the room from Jordan, who was shaking with blazed eyes while holding her phone. "What happened, Jojo?"

"I—I got a response," Jordan stuttered, clutching her phone tightly. After another text buzz went off, her knuckles turned white and she tossed her phone out of her hands with a small shriek.

Matilda laughed and lunged for the phone, reading the text. "It's not that bad, Jojo, it just asks if they should call the police." Matilda confirmed, laughing at Jordan's worried face.

"Fine, fine," Jordan grumbled, still refusing to touch the phone that Matilda placed next to her. "Marga, please go and release me from my embarrassment."

Marga let out a small laugh and nodded, turning towards Tessa. "Truth or dare?" She asked.

"Truth," Tessa answered.

Marga nodded and grabbed a Truth card, reading off the question. "If you have one, why did you choose your occupation?"

Tessa laughed uncomfortably, looking as if she didn't really want to answer the question, but still responded. "I've had a weird life and reasoning, so please don't judge. Now where to begin? I was born in Kent, with my parents, an annoying older brother, and my very own partner-in-crime twin brother. We were an average family, Threes, my dad was a professor and my mom is a journalist. I had an average childhood, but being a fairytale child, I loved making up stories in my head and making games out of the stories. I made friends and I always had my family by my side. Although during Junior year in high school, my dad was driving me home from a party because I was feeling really drunk. While we were driving down the road, I thought I saw something. A wolf, a deer, but _something_. I warned my dad that we were going to hit whatever it was, and he swerved, but our car ended up slipping and we crashed into a tree on the side of the road. The paramedics came a while later, and they said that I got a concussion. And my dad...he...had worse injuries. They had to take him away, and—and I was angry at myself for thinking that I saw something on the road. So when I finally got to college, I decided to try Occult Studies and see if I could find anything that confirmed what I saw. I...well...I never did find anything. I went home and my older brother Lorin convinced me to submit a form for the Selection, so here I am," Tessa finished. A few small, clear tears were beginning to form in the corners of her blue-green eyes. Winnie noticed this and pulled the dark haired girl into a tight hug and whispered a couple comforting words into her ear. Jordan and Marga moved over to the pair to join in the hug, so did Caspian, who partially collapsed on top of Tessa when he attempted to hug them all my stretching his arms around their smaller circle. She laughed and hugged his arm. Matilda rolled her eyes with a half-hearted smile, though still joined the hug.

I felt awkward sitting apart from them. But I wasn't sure if I was wanted in the hug, and I was never a hugger, so my presence would be nothing more than awkward. A few moments went by before Tessa coughed lightly and released from the hug, wiping a single tear from the corner of her eye.

"Enough of that," Tessa said, feebly trying to joke. "Let us at least pretend to be happy and continue our game." We all laughed lightly and got comfortable against our pillows again, with Winnie still holding Tessa's hand. "Caspian, you're up. Truth or dare?"

"Dare." He said in a singsongy voice, grinning widely.

"Alrighty then. I dare you to call a random number and sing _Happy Birthday_ to whoever is at the end of the line." Tessa read off the apple-red _Dare_ card, snorting with humor when she was done. "What are these cards' obsession with random numbers?"

"I don't know, but many I'll get someone to pull a Jordan when I call them." Caspian mused, winking at the blue-eyed girl. He brought out his phone and typed in a random number. The dial buzzed for a moment before the other end picked up.

"Hello?" A male voice asked.

"Everyone singalong now!" Caspian shouted.

"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday Dear—" Everyone sang, before Caspian cut us off.

"I have to ask, my dear man," Caspian asked formally with a hint of an English accent. "What is your name?"

"It depends," he said. "Are you hot?"

Before the person on the other end could continue, he was cut off by a squealing voice. "Aksel! You didn't tell us that it was your birthday!"

The male voice — Aksel — responded, with a tone that sounded like he was rolling his eyes. "Amore, Kole, Luna, listen. These random, people are singing Happy Birthday to me. But no, Amore, it is not in fact my actual birthday."

A deeper voice, that must've been the person named Kole, chuckled. The higher pitched voice, Amore, squealed again nevertheless. "It's your Very, Merry Unbirthday then! Come on everyone, from the top!"

We all laughed from our end of the conversation and began singing again with the girl named Amore singing along with us. "A Very, Merry Unbirthday to you! A Very, Merry Unbirthday to you! A Very, Merry Unbirthday Dear Aksel! A Very, Merry Unbirthday to you!"

We were interrupted by another female voice, the remaining girl called Luna probably. "What the fuck, Aksel?" She muttered into the phone. There was some shifting and laughing from the other side of the conversation before the line went dead.

Caspian raised his plastic red cup of soda. "A Very, Merry Unbirthday to Aksel!" He yelled. They all cheered in response, and I allowed myself to crack a smile and enjoy the occasion. But that was until I realized who's turn it was next. "Now Warren. Ren. Renny Benny. The Ren-Meister." Caspian teased. "Truth or dare?"

I compared my options upfront, either Truth or Dare. I had no excessive need to tell anyone, especially Winnie and Caspian, anything about my life. Nor was I interested in doing some insane dare. But it was all up to the cards in the end.

"Dare," I said confidently to Caspian's devilish smirk.

Caspian grinned mischievously and dramatically reached for one of the alarmingly red cards. His grin only widened when he read the card and met my eyes. "I dare you to reenact Sleeping Beauty's awakening with a person selected by the other players."

"Oh hell no!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, but Caspian and Winnie had shoved me into the adjoining room, shutting the sliding door that was the entryway between the two rooms. I impatiently tapped my foot on the ground, steaming with anger. I was almost about to yell at the tall figure coming through the small slot of the sliding door. But I held myself back when I saw Marga's calming face, although I also noticed the silky black blindfold in her hand. She whispered an apology and I begrudgingly let her tie the folded cloth around eyes as she lead me back into the room with a hand on my back. I could hear undefinable hushed voices whispering soft words to each other, and I was instructed to sit down next to my "Sleeping Beauty."

"Now awaken your Princess," another voice called jestingly.

I mentally rolled my eyes and reached for the face of the Sleeping Beauty. I felt soft facial skin under my fingertips and I knew it was her. Sucking in a tight breath, I leaned down and kissed the area just above the lips of the girl below me. Suddenly, I was shoved forward by a pair of large hands, falling on the body of a not-so-feminine frame. I managed to rip off my blindfold and gaped at the sight of Caspian Valencia only two inches away from my face. With a realizing shriek, I pushed myself away from the laughing Caspian and I fell against Marga, who was behind me. She also laughed and helped me stand up.

"Look! It's raining!" Jordan called from the other side of the room, her body pressed against the panel windows that lined the walls of Winnie's sitting room and the sliding doors that lead to the balcony of her room. She slid open the clear doors and stepped into the gentle, warm drizzle of rain.

"My beloved Prince," Caspian said coquettishly as he roughly grabbed my hand and pulled me out onto the balcony. "Let's dance!"

He started to force me to dance an awkward waltz, but I snatched my hand back as soon as he tried to spin me around. I turned around and ran right into Jordan, who laughed and grabbed my hand, beginning to dance with me like Caspian had tried to. The rest of the girls, Matilda, Tessa, Marga, and Winnie arrived out on the balcony and started to dance with each other as well. Someone had turned on the large stereo that was sitting on a pedestal outside of the sliding doors, and a beautiful violin piece began to float out of the sound system.

Laughter surrounded all of us, driving our minds to drunken stupors. My vision and focus began to get blurred as I was swept up in a mixture of the lazily drifting music and the impending energy of those around myself. I allowed Marga to grab my hand when I switched off partners with Jordan, and settled into a pattern of movements. Her arms were loosely thrown around my neck, allowing for easy, free moving. Our bodies moved in and out of tempo in a strange rhythm that couldn't seem to be fully described in words.

The light, fine rain pattered down on all of us. The clear, sunset sky was exploding with evening colors of gold, orange, pink, purple, and red. And we all seemed to be glowing in the light as we swayed to the sweet violin sounds. It was a chaotic dance, swinging from partner to partner, though a rhythm was formed in our steps out of our laughter and the music. Even Matilda looked to be having a good time as the gentle music pounded its way through our bodies. There were no lavish, jeweled dresses swashing around a polished ballroom floor — just a couple of friends dancing out of time to a song none of them knew. The situation was peaceful, yet crazy and mind washing. Like the daze of a dozen shots of sweet liquor.

No one stepped on each other's feet, only the gliding of unpolished steps mixed with the swaying of the underlying tune. I twirled a dark haired, undefinable girl around. Our finger tips barely touching as our bodies pressed together in cadence. In a flash, we changed partners. I dipped a smaller, blonde girl almost down to the floor, her arms wrapped around my neck and the soft fingers of her hands resting on my cheeks as we were brought close. Our eyes met and all past interactions were ignored — only for this moment in time. The emerald-eyed girl and I lingered close for a second over disrupting the flow of the tempo. Her forehead against mine when we leaned together for our dance. But in another flash of white light, she was stolen away by the blue-eyed boy once again.

Our dances continued until we all ran out of energy late into the star-ridden night sky. My mind kept wandering back to the brief moment with the emerald-eyed girl. Though each time, I was swept back into the throb of music and forgotten memories. Was this one of those flashes of a perfect, utopian moment that lasted for no more than a magical night before fading into only a sound in the distance of our lives? The kind that was described by authors and biographers of the many?

 _So many questions, so little time._

That is what they would all say.

 _But how much time would I have to create all these perfect memories?_

* * *

 **I was originally gonna update last night, but I saw a really big spider on my wall and I got terrified. I promptly lost said spider and had to search for it for the next two hours at one in the morning. I couldn't find the spider. I have serious paranoia right now.**


	11. Chapter Eleven

Icarus

VI.

He had been someone

 _before_

the fall.

The legends forgot he was made of

flesh and blood.

Made of —

crooked grins,

careful hands,

eyes the colour of dawn.

The legends forgot he was

 _brilliant_

like his father.

It is sad

no one cares.

\- a.s.

 **Caspian Valencia**

"Whoa, there are a lot of people here," Aubrey Lockhart commented in a hushed tone. She stood on my left, clutching the hems of her golden beige t-shirt. Her shoulder length, pastel pink hair dashed her cheeks softly as she smiled gently at the crowd before her. The chunky gold and jade necklace around her neck swung side-to-side as she avoided the camera of a photographer that stepped out of line to try and get a better shot. The photographer was quickly ushered back into place by one of our security guards, and we exchanged a nod to confirm that the paparazzi were under control.

"They're all here for the _Illéan Children's Foundation_ , or the ICF. Every year they have a giant party with a silent auction, a banquet, and various games for the children to play." I said, waving and winking at a nearby camera that was pointed at my face. Then I directed Aubrey's vision to a large, colorful sign held above the crowds of photographers and interviewers that read: ILLÉAN CHILDREN'S FOUNDATION'S YEARLY CELEBRATION. "It's always been a tradition for my father and I to attend, but he couldn't be in Angeles this year. So I thought that I could still go with a few of my _favorite_ Selected to keep up the publicity for the event."

Nymaria Casil smiled profusely at a dozen different cameras around her, posing in her loose forest green cargo shorts, daisy white crop top, and her chunky gold statement necklace, a pair of darkly patterned sunglasses balanced on her head of straightened light brown hair. "I think the magazine I worked for, _Cultural_ , did a piece on the Foundation." She said, shifting a few locks of her hair over her caramel-toned shoulders and her dark brown eyes full of excitement and adventure. "They do a lot of work in other countries as well as Illéa, don't they?" I nodded in agreement, my eyes searching the red carpet we were traveling down for the last Selected girl I had invited to join us at the charity. "If you're looking for Lacey, I think we lost her a while back." Nymaria said, glancing to where we had lost the final lady. "She stopped to give an interview to some person."

"Thanks," I told her, taking a moment to whisper in the ear of one of our security guards and told them to go find Lacey and make sure she was safe while she finished walking down the red carpet. "We're almost finished, I believe," I said, mainly to Aubrey's slightly green face. Aubrey let out a quiet sigh of relief. She was shyer than Nymaria and Lacey, far less talkative as well, but she was holding up well with the mass of attention she was facing from the paparazzi and the others around us. Still, I could tell that she would prefer to go straight to see the children we were talking about meeting in the car ride over right away.

A commotion of cameras and calling voices sounded up behind us, and we turned around to see what was causing all the noise. There was Lacey Wolfhard, all dressed up casually in her blue and white striped skirt and small white cotton shirt that was tucked into the belt of the skirt. She was fast-walking in her maroon wedges with a flushed face and a lopsided smile on her face. "I am so sorry for staying behind, but I got caught up on a conversation with reporter about a book she was currently writing," Lacey said laughingly, brushing out her buttoned skirt.

"No worries," I said enthusiastically. "We have all the time in the world today!"

"I do believe that is a paradox," Nymaria commented with a playful finger on her chin. We all laughed, even Aubrey let out a small laugh in front of the snapping cameras. Now that Lacey, Nymaria, Aubrey, and I were all together, all the photographers called for a picture of us together. I grinned and stood center with Lacey and Nymaria on my right and Aubrey on my left, letting the cameras flash for a minute before our security guards started to urge us to continue moving until we were off the red carpet and walking in the direction of a well-suited man.

"Lord Caspian!" The man cheered, shaking my hand happily. "So great of you to make it this year, along with these wonderful ladies." The girls laughed lightly, and each shook his hand as well. "My name is Payat Chavis, and my husband Samir and I are this year's hosts of the Foundation's yearly celebration. We are following the traditional silent auction, banquet, and games from the past years, but we've also invited a group of children from one of the Children's Hospitals here in Angeles. They are all so excited to met you guys!"

Both Aubrey and Lacey perked up at hearing about the children that we would be meeting shortly, while Nymaria nodded and looked to be more entranced by the design of the grounds we were on. The celebration was taking place on a large grassy field with many different tents set up around the centre of the field, where there was a clear area with an assortment of mini games, food stands, and places to run around. As the clear area came more into view, I noticed all the little kids, none of them looking older than twelve at the most, playing games, chasing each other around, and the less shy ones smiling with toothy grins for the few cameras that were placed out here to capture every moment of the celebration.

Payat seemed to noticed my eyes drifting towards the cameras, which had not been there in previous years. "We've had a drop in donations in the past few years, and since this is a nonprofit organization, we aren't allowed to request money from the government, other than minor grants. But we tend to have a spike in donations around this time in the year because of appearances, like yourself and your father, here at our yearly celebration. It gathers more interest than usual, but less and less has come in the past two or so years. We hope that by your participation, along with the Selected that have joined us, it'll spark interest in our little Foundation again."

"That's very noble of you," Lacey commented, her brown eyes sweeping over the crowds with a smile. "To dedicate your life and money to helping these kids, I admire that."

"Thank you, my lady!" Payat said with a bright smile."That's very kind of you, but I'm not the only person who has given so much to these children. There are so many others who have been fighting for these kids since the beginning. Lord Caspian and his father included!"

"Please, call me Caspian," I told him graciously. "Is there any here that I might remember or know?" I asked. "Maybe we can talk about creating more publicity for the foundation."

Payat laughed with a sparkle in his dark brown eyes. "We've been blessed this year with many lovely people attending. Let's see…we have the Count and Countess of Waverly. Lord Heath and Lady Jacqueline Illéa, along with their six-month-old daughter. Oh! And Dame Clare Larousse, the grandmother of Lady Lillian Edgar, she's never missed the celebration since it started!"

At hearing her name, I felt pang of regret that I hadn't invited Lillian, who I had forgotten attended the celebration for the past twelve years. Though they hadn't met in person before the Selection. That meant I didn't want to run into the Dame Clare, who made such a splash during the Selection two generations ago that it earned her nationwide fame that still lasted to this day. And she would probably ask why her beloved granddaughter wasn't among the Selected girls I had asked to attend with me. But I was happy with Aubrey, Lacey, and Nymaria nonetheless. Nymaria was currently talking Payat over the details of the celebration and how it was set up, Lacey was listening in and and making the occasional remark, while Aubrey was gazing wistfully at the children running around and playing games.

"I think that we'll be here for a little while longer, going over the details of the publicity," I told her, offhandedly whispering in her direction and she looked up confusedly. "But I'm sure that the kids won't mind if you go ahead and join them." Her face lit up with a wide grin and mouthed a 'thank you' then rushed off the greet the children. I laughed and smiled at Aubrey being surrounded and tackled by excited kids. After a little while of watching them interact, Lacey seemed to notice them as well.

"We can meet the kids now?" Lacey asked gleefully, turning away from her conversation with Payat and Nymaria. Without taking a direct answer, she started to run over to the children in her short heels and dipped down to give one of the children a hug. She grabbed a rag doll in a flower dress from the many different toy boxes and began to play and make funny faces with a little girl who was holding a bright red plastic car in one hand and a rag doll in the other. The rest of us smiled and watched Aubrey and Lacey play with the little kids.

"I should get back to checking with the photographers and other guests that are currently arriving," Payat commented to himself, then turned back to Nymaria and me. "Please enjoy the celebration and have a wonderful time! We and the kids of the Illéan Children's Foundation are so incredibly happy that you made the time to attend and feel free to around anywhere on the grounds." And with that last sentence, Payat disappeared into the growing crowd that was starting to arrive. I knew that if Nymaria and I didn't move soon, we would be swept up in the rush of people only beginning to spread out. I took Nymaria's hand in mine and gave one last glance towards Lacey and Aubrey to make sure that they were safe.

"Come with me, I want to introduce you to some people," I told her and she nodded, letting me lead the way while she looked around at all the stands and tents. Some people, like my father and I did once, camped out on the grounds the night before the celebration so they could get a view of the Angeles night sky without the bright, interfering city lights. It also meant you were first in line for entering the celebration grounds. There was no price for a ticket, but only a certain amount of people were allowed to be inside the grounds at a time. They let in special invitees and guests first, then the public. Now we were headed to find three of the said special guests.

"Caspian!" A female voice said a little whiles ahead. A brunette, jean-clad figure emerged from one of the red and orange tents that Nymaria and I were about to pass by. Recognizing the woman, I dropped Nymaria's hand and reached out to welcome the open arms she was holding up.

"Jacqueline!" I said, chuckling at the immensity of Nymaria's confused face when she saw the woman. "So great to see you!" I hugged her, and let go after a few seconds with Jacqueline holding my left hand tightly.

"Caspian, my gosh, how long has it been since we last saw each other? God, it was forever ago," Jacqueline gushed happily, afterwards looking over my shoulder to see Nymaria. "And who is this lovely young lady you've brought with you? Are you two a couple? Wait, no, forgive me. You're still doing that Selection thing! I remember her, Lady Nymaria of Dominica. Right? You know, I've always thought that the Selection was overrated. I mean, who would want to be forced to choose between thirty five girls that randomly showed up on your doorstep? That reminds me, you haven't met Kallie! Where is Heath? Gosh, I can never trust him with anything," she babbled on. I turned back to Nymaria quickly, and mentally laughed at her still confused face. I turned back to Jacqueline, who was searching over the crowds of people to find her husband. "Follow me, he must've stayed back in the tent with Kallie." Jacqueline let go of my hand and madly pushed through the crowd, nodding back at us to follow her.

"I'm assuming that's Lady Jacqueline Illéa, the one that Payat mentioned earlier?" Nymaria asked, her face unsure if the words she was saying were correct. We were slowly walking side-by-side towards where Jacqueline disappeared through the crowd.

"Yes, she is the very one Jacqueline Illéa." I said while chuckling gently. "Though she considers herself 'everyone's one cool aunt' that they never had until her."

"But she's an Illéa, and, well, you're a Valencia. Aren't you all supposed to hate each other?" Nymaria asked quickly.

"Brutally honest, I like it." I joked. "But you see, there are many branches of each family. The Illèas, the Valencias, and the Schreaves. And the original branch is the head of all the different branches. For the Illéas, King Axel and Queen Mirabelle, along with their lot of children, including Lochlen, as the eldest, are the first in line for the throne based on if King Axel unexpectedly dies. Then Lochlen becomes the interim King. The Royal and original branch is basically the bad, corrupted side, —" Nymaria laughed quietly under her breath. "— and thus, they rule over Illéa. Then there's the branch that Heath and Jacqueline Illéa fall under. The good one. And they're what? Lochlen's second, third cousins? Anyway, they don't even count as true Illéas in some people's minds because they're so far from the original branch. But they're kind and get along with every family at Court, simply because they don't possess a threat against any other branch. Heath and Jacqueline know that there's no way them or any of their children could ever come close to the Throne, and it humbles them as Illéas."

"I think my favorite part of that whole monologue was that you consider Jacqueline Illéa your 'cool aunt.'" Nymaria responded with a small smirk on her lips.

"The coolest aunt," I joked, "she used to bring Nixon and me bags of candy whenever she visited the palace. And I think I recall her taking us bowling on Nixon's eleventh birthday. Then she took us out for ice cream sundaes afterwards and bought us a bunch of presents. All because our parents were stuck visiting family in England and Nixon was sad when they couldn't make it home in time for his birthday, so Jacqueline took pity on a birthday boy and his little brother."

"Family in England, huh? I thought you Valencias only married here at home." She commented inquisitively, ignoring all the other topics.

"Yeah, some old Valencian King during the Revolution married the English Princess and they had a daughter. But then the Revolution happened and the King, English Princess, and their daughter were killed. Then the Schreaves took over and another branch of Valencias who were allied with England fought back, and blah, blah, blah, it's all history." I told her, waving away the subject. "But yeah, Jacqueline and Heath have always been there."

"Caspian, Nymaria, over here! Over here!" Jacqueline called out, pulling Nymaria by the wrist into the tent. I grinned at her surprised face once she entered the tent, myself following after her. Inside was very simple and not at all traditionally Royal. There were two blue sleeping bags laid next to each other on the tarp-covered ground, along with a cooler that probably held food and drinks. The most extravagant part of the large tent was the plain-looking crib that was at the back center of the tent. After a few moments of surveying the tent, I met the eyes of Heath Illéa. He was cradling a small dark green bundle, which I knew must've held their daughter. "How's Kallie holding up?" Jacqueline asked her husband, taking the bundle from his arms. "She's only four months old and the worst sleeper I've ever met."

"She gets that from you," Heath joked, kissing Jacqueline on the cheek as she slapped his arm playfully. "And by my dear old eyes, is that a grown up Caspian Valencia I see?" He asked and I laughed.

"Only twenty five and losing his vision, I always knew you Illéas were weak," I said playfully as Heath pulled us into a quick hug. "But it's good to see you, Jacqueline, and baby Kallie."

"You too, my boy," Heath said, winking at him. "And who's this girl you've got with you?"

" _The Selection_ ," Jacqueline added quickly and with a small smirk.

Nymaria stretched out her hand awkwardly. "Nymaria Casil," she said. "I'm the Selected from Dominica and one of Caspian's various girlfriends at the moment."

Heath snorted. "I like this one, Caspian, keep her around. Very witty."

Both Nymaria and I laughed, and I shook my head. "No promises, but that's up to Nymaria here if she actually wants to stick around us after she gets to know us."

Nymaria smirked. "Maybe I'll dump you, Lochlen, and Warren, and run off with your brother. That would be the scandal of the century, wouldn't it?"

I groaned at the thought. "I bet Nixon would get a kick out of that. He's still pissed at me because our parents chose me instead of him to represent our family. But he's already the most emo out of all of us, he probably would have refused to talk to a girl unless they're completely alone because he's so terrified that someone is going to find some sort of compromising information on him."

Nymaria chuckled and shook her head softly. "I'd love to meet him and get his opinion on that. How likely is it that I receive some type of conspiracy theory that you're actually the hidden Swedish Princess who dressed up in drag as a man so she could travel safely in the new world she arrived at after her ship sank and her twin brother 'died' on the ship. Then she goes on to go to the palace in Angeles, and falls in love with Nixon, but they can never be together because she actually has magical, eye-changing abilities that allow her to look like his brother Caspian."

"I think you just recited basically half of the plot of Twelfth Night," I said, amazed. "Well, minus the 'magical, eye-changing abilities'. We all know that it's really the aliens who have that power and have possessed currently half of the government."

"Quite correct," Nymaria added, laughing gently and pushing her sunglasses farther back up her head when they began to slip down.

"Well," Jacqueline intruded laughingly, grabbing our attention towards her. "I see that you lovebirds have everything figured out, so Heath and I will release you from your capture and set you free."

"Thanks Jacqueline," I told her with a crooked grin. I gently leaned down and kissed the forehead of the little baby Kallie and stroked her head. "She looks like a future Queen already," I informed Heath, who was now standing next to me, which he responded with an agreeing nod and a small chuckle. "It was great seeing you, and I hope to see you again at my birthday in a month?"

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Heath said happily, hugging his wife and daughter. "It'll be good to see Lochlen and Warren again as well. Please tell them hello from us."

"Of course," I promised.

After Nymaria said her goodbyes as well, with Jacqueline teasingly saying that she was rooting for her, we left their tent and made our way back to the centre of the field grounds. The first thing that we noticed was the lack of people mingling around the centre, and there was a sea of people gathered farther down to the main tent. Nymaria and I nodded at each other, realizing that it was about time for the banquet to start. Silently, we walked into the main tent, which was twenty times larger than any of the other tents and had room for almost four hundred people. I handed my coat to the concierge and I looked at Nymaria, who looked slightly uncomfortable in her more casual wear compared to the many people wearing dresses and suits. But I quietly assured her that no one would judge us, since it was a casual formal event, and her clothes were perfectly acceptable for the warm weather. We were lead to our table, where we spotted that Aubrey and Lacey were already seated and waving us over. I didn't have time to talk to any of them as Nymaria and I took our seats, and Payat and a dark haired man that I assumed was Samir.

"Welcome everyone. Let me start out by saying how grateful everyone at the Foundation, including Samir and I, are that you all attended our yearly celebration with such excitement, generosity, and kindness. Thank you to all the people who have donated so far, little and big, in the end, every donation means the world to us." Payat said into the single black microphone that was placed on the circular wooden stage in the center of the tent. "And now we would like to thank all of you with a banquet of food from all over the world. Along with a silent auction that we will have during the banquet, and we will be auctioning off an assortment of valuable items one at a time. So please open up your wallets and spend what you can!"

There was a sounding of cheers and a smattering of applause that Payat and Samir both responded to with another 'thank you' and the couple smiled. They reached for each other's hand and raised their connected hands while they walked off the stage and took their seats at a table close to the front of the stage. We all turned back to our tables and watched as plates of food were served. There was a sign placed on the stage saying that they would start auctioning off items in about five minutes, so we had until then to start eating.

"Sounds exciting," Lacey said with a cheesy smile. "Gwen told me that she came here once with Warren and their grandmother when she was younger. Isn't their grandmother friends with someone in the Foundation?"

"Yeah, some benefactor that should be here, but I forget who," I told her, unfolding my white napkin and draping it over my lap. "But how have you guys been liking it here? Aubrey?"

Aubrey smiled at hearing her name and copied my movements of unfolding her white napkin and draping it over her jeans. "Everyone has been so nice and helpful, especially the little kids. I met one boy, Timothy, who wanted to walk me all around the field so he could point out all the fun things to do here." She said cheerfully, her blue eyes beaming at the memory.

"I'll have to meet him then. I want to take a look at the boy who managed to steal Lady Aubrey's heart in only an hour," I said, making Aubrey giggle and blush lightly. "I have to learn his tricks."

"It starts by being cute and funny," Nymaria added maliciously with a teasing tone. "That I think you can work on."

I gasped and held a hand to my heart. "By my stars! Did you just call me, Lord Caspian Valencia of House Valencia, son of the Duke and Duchess of Valencia, and the heir to House Valencia, not cute or funny? Dishonor! Dishonor on you! Dishonor on your cow! Lacey! Quickly! Come to my defence!"

Lacey quickly got the joke and grinned. "Dishonor on your whole family! Especially the unicorns!"

Both Aubrey and I feigned hard gasps. "Lady Lacey Wolfhard," Aubrey said, shaking her head a little with faked disappointment. "You have the depravity in your heart to threaten unicorns?"

"I know, I know," Lacey said with a blithely beam on her lips. "I could never hurt the unicorns. I love them too much."

"Good," I said, shaking my head. "I thought I might have to accuse you from the Selection for that. The Scots wouldn't be very happy to hear that one of Illéa's Selected would bring dishonor on a unicorn. It's their national animal!"

A look of genuine horror came over Lacey's face and her brown eyes widened. "No! I love unicorns! I could never—"

"It's alright sweetie," Nymaria interrupted with a smirk,"We all know how much you like unicorns." Lacey gave a crooked smile and leaned back as a server placed a plate of food down in front of her, and two other servers came around to the other side of our table to place down two different dishes additionally.

Lacey blushed and laughed, brushing down her button-down skirt. "What can I say? I have unicorn mugs, ring, plates, stuffed animals, necklaces, slippers, blankets, and any other unicorn-themed item you can think of!" She said, tucking a few locks of light brown hair behind her ear. We all laughed and began to dig into the food. One of the plates was an assortment of different types of hummus, another was a plate full of pomegranate chicken called Fesenjan, and the last plate had a bowl full of warm pita bread placed on top of the ceramic design. I grabbed a few pieces of chicken and a spoonful of three different types of hummus. As we started to eat, Payat alone went back on the stage.

"I hope that everyone is enjoying their lunch so far, and we are now auctioning off the first item," Payat said into the microphone. He was handed a medium sized rectangular frame that was adjusted to rest against an easel that was carried on stage by two people. With a swish, he pulled of the curtain that covered the painting. "Here we have a piece called 'Execution Sunday', by English painter Thomas Halligan. The painting is based on the notorious day during the Revolution where the young Valencian Queen was executed by the Schreaves in order for their rise to power. It features the Valencian Queen facing the shooting squad that was tasked with executing her, and with her mother the morning before her. As you can see, the late Queen's face cannot be seen, but instead the face of her scandalous, yet unproven, Schreave ex-lover is shown gazing at her moments before her execution by order of his father. He would later face his own infamous death by suicide from jumping off the balcony of his palace room after suffering from depression for years after the Schreaves coming to power, which many believe was sparked by the death of his late Valencian lover." He paused for effect and the two people who brought out the easel walked in front of the stage and stabled down three pages of bidding sheets. "We will be taking bids for the next thirty minutes, and every ten minutes we will bring up a new item. Thank you everyone for your generosity and happy bidding!"

I was visibly uncomfortable when Payat finished describing the painting. "Execution Sunday", as it was so accurately named, was a dark time in Valencian history. It was one of the more bloody points during the Revolution, so tragic that it's become a silent law to not speak of their names, when the Queen Regent and her daughter, who was Queen for only a couple of hours were killed. After their deaths, the Schreaves went on the execute dozens of Valencian council members and loyalists. But it was over one hundred years ago, though still a sore spot in history that was so disheveled by lies and rumors and blood that no one can know the exact details for that day.

Lacey seemed to notice my uncomfortable position and coughed before speaking. "I take it that no one here is especially interested in that painting?" She asked, stealing a glance my way as if to check if what she said was okay. She fidgeted with her skirt and I faced her with a clipped, thankful look.

"Good, I think that's the same painting that's hung in one of the hallways back at the palace. The one up there must be a rip off," I joked, earning a soft laugh from Lacey. Aubrey, on the other hand, snorted into her glass of some drink that looked like pink lemonade. She turned red and wiped her chin embarrassingly when the rest of us laughed at her reaction. "Glad to know my tricks are still working," I told her, winking while Aubrey rolled her eyes.

The rest of the lunch went on without a hitch. We shared stories and jokes all along the way, and Nymaria told Lacey and Aubrey about meeting Heath and Jacqueline and all the tales about my childhood that Jacqueline so generously shared. We watched as different prizes, ranging from gift cards to tours of the palace to a gymnastics lesson with an Olympic Gymnast. It was near the end of the auction and lunch when the final item was announced.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! We have had so much success today with our celebration and auction, and we here at the Foundation are so happy to share our stories and love with all you generous donators! Now, for this year's auction, we have saved the best item for last," Payat said into the microphone with a bright face. There was a wooden pedestal with a rectangular lump of fair size hidden under a velvet curtain — which we learned was Payat's favorite flair. He grinned once more and lifted the curtain, revealing a set of worn books underneath. I didn't quite understand why the books were supposed to be so special, I couldn't read the titles of the book set. But Lacey's eyes widened and she gasped at the sight and said something to Aubrey in a hushed tone. "Here we have a set of three first edition Jane Austen classics and a first edition copy of _Alice in Wonderland_ by Lewis Carroll. All four books have new bindings and have been refurbished for either display or for reading. Just as always, we will be taking bids for the next thirty minutes. Thank you everyone for your generosity and happy bidding!" He finished with a flourish of his arms. Excited chatter rose up out of the sea of people seated for the banquet, many of them reaching into their designer bags and pulling out cheque books. A line was starting to form by the bidding sheets as people rushed over to write down their bids for the precious books.

"I can't believe it," Lacey said on my left, her voice hushed and coming out in soft breaths, having an almost musical tone. "Wow. Those books have to be hundreds of years old. And they're right in front of us."

"You like Jane Austen?" I asked her.

"Like?" She laughed. "I love all her books. She was an incredible writer, and I swear that I love her books more than anything else. Even unicorns."

"Damn, that's a high bar," Nymaria remarked with a wink aimed at the younger girl. "You should join the bid for the book set if you love them that much."

Lacey's cheeks turned pink. "Oh–oh, I don't think I have enough money to afford something like a set of first edition classics. Not compared to the other, extremely rich, people here."

I looked back and forth between the two girls, following the conversation that was continued as I got my idea. "I'll bid for them," I announced a bit too loudly, standing up suddenly, much to Lacey's surprise. "Consider the books a present from me."

Lacey blushed and swatted her hand while shaking her head. "Please Caspian, you don't have to. I'll live without them. Anyways, you don't know if you'll even win the books."

I winked at her. "My lady, what you must understand, is that I never lose."

* * *

And I never did. Once I walked up to the bidding sheets, being one of the last people to do so, and skimmed over all the other bids, I put down a bid of money that no one else would dare over step. I could feel the eyes of the other bidders when I wrote down my own bid and walked back to my seat with a small smirk dangling on my lips. Then there were the small gasps of the other bidders when they saw how much I put down and whispered if they could bid more. But I knew that no one would. Though I knew that everyone in this room could probably afford to bid more, they wouldn't dare overstep a Selected Candidate. I made it back to our table and gave a confirming nod to Lacey that I had placed down a bet that no one would match. We only had to wait.

"Thank you," Lacey said rather in-promptly, her tanned face contorted as if she was thinking about what to say for a while.

I smiled at her, with no smirk or laugh attached. "We've known each other for a while now. You're one of the few people that I've known before the Selection and you have always been a good friend and ally." I told her.

She blushed lightly and ducked her head down. " _The Selection_ ," she said, tasting the words on her lips as if she had never heard the words before. "It's amazing to think about how far I've come to this day. First, I was only a Six, who was lucky enough to secure a job at the actual palace as Lady Gwendolyn Schreave's Nanny. And now I've been chosen to be part of _the_ Selection? It's just amazing to think about. I mean, I've worked at the palace for a whole year now, and I have had so many different experiences. And–and now I'm in a competition to win the heart of one of the three people I have come to know over the year that I've been at the palace." Lacey finished with a dreamy smile on her face, displaying that optimistic attitude that she was known by around the palace.

I laughed softly under by breath and turned my head away from her. Romance and love was always a strange subject for me. In the beginning, I had Winnie, though I wasn't ever sure that I felt any romantic feelings for her. But later she left for Waverly and her absence created an empty hole in my heart — I had missed our friendship. Then Aisling Carys Ronan came along. She was something _different_. We didn't have an innocent friendship like I had with Winnie. I definitely felt a love for her, that was proved by the many days and nights we spent together. Yet, we both knew in our hearts that our relationship couldn't last with our vastly different expectations and priorities. Hell, it was only a year and a half ago when we last saw each other. Aisling had to be whisked away by her mother due to some prior engagements, and I hadn't heard or seen from her since. Part of me regretted never trying to search for her or connect with her again. But perhaps it was all in the right timing. As my mother said, I was to find a wife during the Selection, and all past "flings" wouldn't matter when I became King. I hoped that would come true.

"Well this is going to be fun," Nymaria mused, sitting back down on her chair. She had come back from talking to someone from the magazine she used to work for. And she insisted on bringing Aubrey along with her because the younger girl worked at _Real Illéa_ , which was an important network for many people in the media business world. Aubrey nodded and smiled with tight lips and sat down at our small table of four. "I find that I enjoy striking terror in the hearts of unsuspecting children."

Aubrey laughed and rolled her eyes. "What Nymaria means is that we popped over the one of the children's tables on our way back and she happened to startle one of the kids." She corrected, nudging Nymaria gently in the side. I had to admit that I enjoyed seeing Aubrey's more friendly and open side, it only took a little time for her to become comfortable enough to allow herself to open up.

"Look! Look!" Lacey whispered loudly, like she couldn't contain her excitement. "They're announcing the winner of the book set!" We quieted down our tones and turned towards the stage, where Payat was happily reaching for the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" He began, gesturing for the book set to be gingerly lifted up. "We thank everyone for their generous donations, and we have found a highest bidder for these wonderful books. Our highest bidder was Lord Caspian Valencia, for a bid of a whopping $20,000!"

I laughed heartily and thanked those around me for their applause, then turned back to Lacey. "I told you I could do it," I whispered to her, my breath tickling her throat and causing her to roll her eyes and laugh.

I waved a 'thank you' to Payat and he winked and signaled for the book set to be carried off stage. I sent one of our guards to retrieve the books, and to make sure that the set was delivered straight to Lady Lacey's room once we returned to the palace. The banquet soon finished afterwards, with many more people coming up to our table and introducing themselves as rich Heirs or Buisness CEOs or famous Socialites. Nymaria and Lacey reacted well to meeting all the different people, the former being a charismatic reporter and the latter having been party in the public eye since she became Lady Gwendolyn's Nanny at the age of seventeen. But Aubrey was shyer and more timid to start up or continue a conversation. She got a lot of attention from our visitors because of her stepfather — Charles Murray, a politician who also owned the news channel Real Illéa and who is extremely popular in his home province of Fennley. Aubrey had been a Six before her mother married Charles, the man she cleaned a house for, and she was thrust into the public eye. Everyone wanted to know about Delia and Aubrey Lockhart, the mother and daughter pair, when the news first broke that Charles Murray was engaged to a Six and was fully prepared to marry her despite Caste. They painted the picture of a perfect, fairytale love story, but I didn't know how Aubrey felt about that so-called perfect love story.

"Hey," I started, meeting Aubrey's blue eyes. "Do you want to go back outside? It's a bit stuffy in here and maybe you can introduce me to Timothy if we can find him." Aubrey's eyes lit up at my suggestion, and she glanced towards Lacey and Nymaria with a worried look on her face. I smiled and shook my head. "They won't notice if we slip away for a bit," I told her, but Aubrey blushed and I realized what I said may have implied. "To go visit Timothy that is," I finished with an easy grin and offered my hand for her to take. She smiled softly and accepted my hand, and we both ducked our heads as we made our way through the crowd of people in front of us. Aubrey remained silent, which seemed to be an on and off trait for her, and it appeared that she only spoke when spoken to unless she got a burst of confidence. Her piercing blue eyes displayed a playfulness underneath her shield of shy indifference. I knew that some part of her called out to be free, and it was up to me to give her that chance for her own taking.

"Over here," Aubrey called, grabbing my hand tighter as she pulled me in a slightly different direction. Her breath paused when she glanced down at how hard she was holding my hand and she let my hand go with a too-fast movement. She cringed and turned away, clearly reprimanding herself for whatever she blamed herself for. I, on the other hand, quickly let it go and jogged to catch up with her swift feet. She glanced my direction again and let a deep breath go at spotting my easy grin. "I saw the kids gather over here."

I nodded and smiled, continuing following her to where a flock of about twelve children were gathered. They had been fed lunch elsewhere, not In the main tent, since that was for only for Castes One and Two, then perhaps a few Threes and Fours, if they could afford it. The sad thing was that all these children were probably Caste Four and under, and were not permitted by the law to entire a room filled by some of the richest, most influential people in Illéa. We were allowed to visit the children, being a charity and all, but the rules of the Caste System still stood strong. If I became King, I would like to lower the more severe restrictions on the differences between the Castes. Perhaps making it law that a person could not discriminate basic human rights based on Caste, or that a man could marry up the Castes instead of only women. But that presented a whole new list of problems. Especially since it would be hard to get any of these laws through the Democratic government — the section of the government that was elected by the people. They would be worried of how the new laws would affect their course of power, and more power struggles was not something that Illéa needed right now.

"Hello kids!" Aubrey cheered gently, causing all twelve faces to flicker into her direction. After a split second, all of by their faces broke into toothy grins and happy whoops. They all ran over to tackle Aubrey, on was leaned down on her knees. The children all wrapped her into a big hug before an extremely pale, black-haired girl finally noticed me.

"Who's that?" She asked, raising her nose and pursing her lips.

" _Amber_ ," another girl reprimanded, slapping her arm and letting her voice drop into a whisper when she met my eyes. "That's Lord Caspian Valencia."

Amber's eyes widened in a mix of fear and surprised. She gave a sudden bow that lasted no less than five seconds. "Your Majesty!" She called loudly. "Or…Your Highness? No! Your Lordship—"

I laughed and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's alright Amber." She straightened her back at the sound of her name when I said it. "Call me Caspian. We're all friends here!"

It took her a moment, but Amber slowly nodded and began to crack a smile. "Y'know my sister had a crush on you, _Caspian_ ," she said teasingly, like we had been friends forever. Ah, the wonders of youth. "But she didn't get Selected, and she said it was became we are Eights."

I smiled sadly at her. "Well, your sister sounds like a wonderful girl. But at the palace, Caste doesn't matter. In fact, Lady Lucia Mareen of Atlin was an Eight before the Selection!" I told her earnestly, earning a hopeful smile from the younger girl.

Though I was lying my heart out to her. She didn't know it yet, but her Caste has an Eight would follow her around for the rest of her life. Lady Lucia, a previous Eight, was chosen because she presented herself as a fairly educated, beautiful young woman who expressed potential in joining the Selection. This year we had a record of eight Ladies from Caste Six and below being Selected — which boosted the moral of the lower Castes. It was now potential for their future Queen and Duchesses to be born of lower Castes, though it was kept a quiet secret that the Council would never allow a Seven or an Eight to become Queen.

"Where's Timothy?" Aubrey asked the girls and boys standing before her. "He said that he really wanted to meet Caspian. Kiera?"

The girl who had reprimanded Amber stepped up, small and thin, her light blonde hair swept over her shoulders and her brown eyes that were flecked with orange widened proudly. "I last saw him by the First Aid stand. He scratched his arm when he was playing with a stick," Kiera said, the girl appearing no older than twelve, and seemed to be the designated leader of the children.

"Thank you, Kiera," Aubrey said in a motherly tone. "Caspian and I are going to go check up on Timothy to make sure he's alright. We'll be back soon." Kiera's face dropped when she heard that we were leaving, but brightened up when we promised to return soon. She grabbed Amber's hand and the two girls went back to playing with their trucks in the grass. Aubrey smiled fondly at the pair as we started walking to the First Aid stand. "They've been friends since they were both three years old," Aubrey commented, answering my mental question about the close relationship between the two friends. "Both orphans who were placed in the same orphanage, and the same Children's Hospital when Amber was diagnosed to have Anemia, and Kiera had a heart defect."

"Oh my," I said simply, glancing at the two girls.

Aubrey shook her head sadly. "It's very unfortunate, and they seem to have bonded over their own disabilities. But, luckily, Kiera is due to soon receive a heart transplant, and Amber is on medication to help with her Anemia." I smiled at the good news. Aubrey truly had a way of connecting with these children in a way no other person could. We walked on in a comfortable silence until we finally reached the First Aid stand, were a young, dark-haired boy was being let out of the stand with a small wrap of gauze on his arm. Once his dark brown eyes landed on us, they lit up in joy.

"Lady Aubrey!" He shouted, rushing towards us. He accidentally ran too fast for his short legs that he tripped over and I quickly moved to catch him in my arms.

"Whoa there little buddy," I told him with a chuckle as I helped him regain his balance. "Be careful when you run fast like that."

Timothy ignored what I said and thrusted out his gauze-clad arm with an excited smile, practically bouncing with joy. "Mister Caspian! Can you please sign my cast!"

Aubrey laughed and kneeled down to hold the hand of the young boy's uninjured arm. "It's a real cast, that would take much longer to put on, but I'm sure that Mister Caspian would be happy to sign it." Timothy beamed and comedically pulled out a mini blue marker from his back pocket with his injured hand. He handed me the marker and I took it, laughing lightly.

"I would love to sign your cast!" I told him cheerfully. "I've been looking forward to meeting the boy who stole Lady Aubrey's heart before me all day. You have to tell me your secrets!"

Timothy giggled. "A magician never reveals his secrets!" He called in a mischievous voice.

"You're a magician, then?" I asked him with a playful grin.

He looked both way and leaned away from Aubrey, getting up on his tippy toes to whisper in my ear. "I'm not actually a magician," he told me, and I gasped dramatically.

"You're not?" I whispered back urgently.

Timothy shook his head solemnly and reached up to whisper again. "No. I want to be a Knight at the palace, and have a horse, and a squire, and a big castle for me to live in with my mom and dad."

I grinned at his ambitions and dreams. "I'll tell you a secret of my own," I said," I always wanted to be a Knight as well."

"Howabout when you become King, you can make me a Knight and all make you a Knight!" Timothy said excitedly, not bothering to whisper anymore.

I looked up at Aubrey, and thought back to Nymaria and Lacey. "I have an idea too," I told him, carrying him up in my arms as I stood up. He squealed and reached out for Aubrey to hold him next. "You and I can be Knights and my friends, Lady Aubrey, Lady Lacey, and Lady Nymaria can play along with us!"

Timothy giggled again in Aubrey's arms and nodded gleefully. "To the horses! We must ride to meet Lady Lacey and Lady Nymaria and save them from the evil exploding dragon hiding in the palace!" He shouted for the whole camp grounds to hear, starting our new adventure.

* * *

Whoa. This is going to be a short, but thank you to all my readers and reviewers, you guys make my day. I'm proud of this chapter (8,259 words!), which is a new length record for me, and I'm mildly proud of how it turned out. Anyways, I hope that everyone is having a good summer right now and I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!


	12. Chapter Twelve

Dearest

How can you say you know me,

When you've only seen my skin,

And not the untamed world I hide,

That's growing deep within,

You haven't heard my ribs all creak,

Behind each plaited vine,

Or swum beneath the waterfall,

That cascades down my spine,

You've not been here for long enough,

To watch a new life start,

Or find the run-down castle,

Lying just inside my heart,

You haven't climbed the branches,

That are wrapped around each lung,

Swaying with the breeze,

That come dancing past my tongue,

Don't mark me with your footprints,

If you plan to leave too soon,

And only want to know me,

When my plants are all in bloom,

Because the birdsong might be pretty,

But it's not for you they sing,

And if you think my winter is too cold,

You don't deserve my spring.

– e.h

 **Lochlen Illéa**

"The garden looks lovely, darling," Queen Mirabelle Illéa said in a soft tone. Her hand was placed gently on my shoulder as she surveyed the blooming garden. Summer was ending soon, and when Autumn came it would cause many of the beautifully green plants and trees to lose their leaves. It meant that I would be tasked with a new project with keeping up with the changing seasons.

"It is," I remarked dully, dropping the pruners in my left hand onto the dirt ground. I was pruning off the dry, dead leaves from one of the Juniper trees that hadn't received enough water. It appeared that the hose under the ground that automatically watered the plants had been cut. Thus, the Junipers weren't watered on time. The palace mechanics had come and fixed the hose, though couldn't find why the hose had been cut. Probably some animal that buried its way down to the hose and accidentally bit down. But the hose was fixed, and the Junipers were under control. I picked up my basket of garden tools and set out to reach the garden shed to put the tools back. My mother followed silently behind me, wearing a soft blue tea dress that was unlike her usually elaborate gowns. She seemed to be itching to say something, but I didn't feel like asking her. My mother, the legendary Queen Mirabelle Illéa, the former model, was known for her brazen and brash antics. She was never discreet and always said what was on her mind. It was what my father liked about her, along with her beauty, wealth, family connections, and basic charisma. But today she had trouble with saying whatever was on her mind.

"Lochlen, you know I love you," she said cautiously. Her flats made a crunching sound on the silty ground as she came to a stop behind me. She placed her hand back on my shoulder and urged me to turn around to meet her blue eyes. "But your father and I have been talking, and we think that you should stop spending your time in the palace garden. We do have professional gardeners for cleaning and pruning. You need to focus on the Selection. And while it is good that you have hobbies, which your father and I support, right now should be for finding a girl that you can see yourself bonding with. You are going to be spending the rest of your life with one of these twenty nine girls, it's very important and crucial to the Illéa line that you find a match. As we've discussed, Octavian is not correct for this job, and Clinton is far too young and out of sorts to do this important task. Adira is too innocent and young to be immersed in such a dangerous world. You are the only Illéa we have left."

I looked at her weirdly. "You sound a lot like my evil stepmother right now," I told her honestly with a blank face. Mirabelle frowned and gave a warning glance with her eyes. "I told you and father that I am doing my job, but I haven't felt a romantic connection with any of these girls yet."

The temperamental Queen signed dramatically, taking her hand off my shoulder in a flourish that was keen to her personality. "Please tell me that you have at least found a couple girls that you find suitable, or seem interesting enough to get to know."

I smiled nervously, fidgeting with my fingers. "There were a few girls that seemed friendly," I said earnestly. "There was Lady—"

"No!" Mirabelle snapped, interrupting my sentence. "Don't tell me, tell them!"

"Excuse me?" I asked her, confused. After a beat, a bright smile with a hint of deviousness formed on the Queen's face and I felt butterflies in my stomach. "Mother, what did you do?" I asked her again, my stomach lurching and my head feeling light.

"Actually it was Warren Schreave's idea. What a lovely young man, you should really talk to him at some point. He has so many great ideas!" She said excitedly.

"You hate Warren Schreave," I muttered, my mind feeling uneasy.

"Well, I do hate him. But who doesn't?" Mirabelle said, rolling her eyes as she took advantage of my weak position and pushed me forward. "Though he is a talented organizer, and we work quite well together, as it seems."

"When you aren't fighting," I mumbled under my breath.

"When we aren't fighting," she confirmed proudly with a smile. "Now, Warren did the food and design, and I worked on invitations and management. And because you love the gardens so much, I insisted that the party take place in the open field in front of the greenhouse and rose bushes. Warren easily compiled, such a gentleman that boy, and agreed that it was a lovely setting."

"Wonderful," I replied dryly. She didn't seem to notice my tone and kept guiding me out of the greenhouse. Once we left the high humidity building, I shivered slightly at the loss of the humid air and the dampness. But this was Angeles and it was still quite hot outside, my hair feeling dry the second I got used to the sweltering heat. I mindlessly brushed the dirt off my hands on my jeans, which already had a few dirt stains on them. The sound of clinking cups and soft voices got louder as we approached the tea. It appeared that it wasn't only Selected that were invited, but also all the visiting Nobles that could attend. I felt a stone drop in my stomach when I remembered that I would have to talk to all of them.

"I'll leave you to them," Mirabelle said with a smile. She glanced over the tables of trays to spot Warren talking to Lady Olivia Michelson of Whites. They seemed to be have a riveting conversation about some topic that I couldn't overhear, but my mother took it upon herself to go catch up with the pair. Leaving me alone. I mentally groaned and my eyes surveyed all the people in attendance before I spotted the blonde head of a familiar face. At seeing her, I made my way through the crowd to go meet her.

"Oh! Lochlen!" Brontë exclaimed, jumped back a pace when she turned to see me. Her cheeks turned a little pink and I smiled shyly. She was holding a pink drink with a slice of grapefruit and a small green garnish. Brontë looked down at the drink unsurely, swirling the liquid around in the delicate martini glass. "Mind me asking, but do you know what this is?" She asked nervously, holding the glass out. "I picked it randomly from that table of a bunch of drinks, but I'm not sure what it is."

"May I?" I asked her in response, gesturing to the drink. Brontë nodded and handed me the glass. I took a small slip and tasted the liquid go down my throat with a strong, almost bitter, flavor of grapefruit — my favorite fruit. There was another defining taste in the cooler, which I recognized immediately. "Vodka!" I declared, much to Brontë's surprise. "Grapefruit and vodka," I repeated to her.

Brontë lifted a dirty blonde that contrasted with her naturally pale blonde tresses. "Vodka?" She asked, as if she didn't quite believe what I said. "It's only two in the afternoon. And I don't know how you Royals do it, but where I come from, we usually don't have vodka along with our afternoon snack."

I chuckled lightly, handed the glass back to Brontë. She looked at it and frowned, gesturing for me to keep it. I shrugged and took another sip. "It's the Illéa family motto," I said jokingly. "Whatever they don't see won't hurt them."

"And I assume that this 'motto' includes a rule of putting vodka in everything?" Brontë jested.

"The very same," I remarked, laughed and raising my glass to her in salute. Her blue eyes flashed back to the vodka-infused drink in my hand and she grimaced. Turning back to the tables full of different drinks, most of which I guessed also had some concoction of alcohol in them, and a thought of a different drink selection ran through Brontë's eyes. She cleared her throat and walked over to the table timidly, and I followed her to help determine the alcoholic drinks from the non.

"I–I'm going to get a different drink," she said, clearly intimidated by all the choices. I nodded, agreeing with the idea while I took small sips of the drink she gave me. "I don't usually drink alcohol, it's much to bitter and weird for my tastes," Brontë added, mumbling the last few words as she reached for the drink. I immediately recognized the cocktail and moved swiftly.

"Not that one," I said, quickly taking the drink out of her hand and putting it back on the table. She gave me a look that called for an explanation.

"It said 'Rosewater Lemonade,'" she complained.

"Yeah, a Rosewater Lemonade with an ounce of vodka," I told her, pointing to the small print underneath the name of the drink.

"Oh," Brontë said simply. She looked over the table again and reached for another drink. Before she grabbed the pink and lavender drink, she turned to check with me. I shook my head and she sighed. "What was that one?" She asked tiredly.

"Grapefruit Cardamom Gin Fizz," I instructed, pointing to the tiny label card. "Rosemary syrup, infused gin, grapefruit juice, a splash of prosecco, rosemary sprigs, and grapefruit peel."

Brontë frowned at the drink. "I don't even like grapefruit," she grumbled.

Before I could respond, another voice intercepted. "It's not everyone's cup of tea," Lady Carnegie Newark of Zuni remarked with a laugh to both Brontë and myself. "But in this case it would be fruit." She looked at me with a bright smile.

I felt the heat of the moment and prodded myself to say something. "But it's our's," I blurted out quickly, not really understanding what I just said. Luckily, Carnegie was too distracted with Brontë that she hardly noticed me. She only looked up for a second and grinned.

"Carnegie!" Brontë said, relieved. "Can you please help us find at least one nonalcoholic drink?"

Carnegie laughed and pushed a sunny blonde curl over her shoulder. She scoured over the table for a moment before her green eyes fell on a certain drink. "Here," she exclaimed, reached for the light pink liquid. "A Rose Water Cointreau Fizz, the version without alcohol." Brontë quickly brightened and thanked Carnegie profusely for the help. Carnegie laughed and waved Brontë away playfully. "I don't really like alcohol either," she said, then turned more to me and my cheeks heated up. "But you Illéas always have so much alcohol on hand," she said laughingly with a wink.

I felt my hands get sweaty and I looked for a place to put my own alcoholic drink as the pair of girls laughed to each other. "I–I don't usually drink anything with alcohol," I stuttered out. But my voice was too quiet and crackly that Carnegie couldn't hear, and she continued talking to Brontë cheerfully while I had to put my drink down after it almost slipped through my hands because of how sweaty they were.

 _Must be the heat,_ I told myself.

I cleared my throats and attempted to straighten my posture without breaking my view of Carnegie. My cheeks kept heating up irregularly. This wasn't like how I felt when Allegra had kissed me, though it was close. There was a strange feeling in my chest that I felt I couldn't get rid of. I mumbled a "goodbye" to Brontë and Carnegie and swiftly walked off. My feet pounded on the grassy ground, and I walked around the entire field until my heartbeat went down to a regular pattern. I wasn't quite sure how I was feeling, but I'd be sure to check in with Octavian later.

"You have the stupidest name I have ever heard." A loud female voice scorned, a voice that sounded almost tired and angry from insults thrown.

"Thank you very much, love," a deeper male voice teased.

I recognized the second voice immediately as Baron Cashel Conwyn, my brother's best friend and my own friend by default. I couldn't quite catch on to the female voice but it sounded slightly familiar. Both of their heads quickly came into view, one a brunette and the other a golden blond.

"Lady Georgiana?" I called, interrupting their quick banter.

"Prince Lochlen," she said dryly, refusing to look at me. Instead she was making forceful eye contact with Cashel, who had an almost lighthearted smirk on his face. Her face was pink, especially her cheeks looked as if they were burning. Very unlike the Georgiana I had met during the interviews. "I was just leaving."

A worried look formed on my face, and even Cashel looked as if he wanted to say something. But one glare from the red-faced Georgiana set him silent, though he didn't shift his blue eyes away from her green-gold eyes. She stomped away in her black velvet turtleneck top and green velvet skirt. She was muttering words about Cashel under her breath, though loud enough that we could hear them.

"God, that idiot."

"I can't believe he—"

"Lochlen." Cashel sighed with a dreamy smile, looking up at the blue sky then back at me. He placed a hand on my shoulder and looked in my eyes. "I think I'm in love."

"Whoa there buddy." I laughed, shaking my head. "She's still a Selected. And you've only met her today, don't you think it's a little early to profess your undying love."

"She's _beautiful_." He gushed, ignoring my every previous word. "Did you see how she looked at me?"

"With hate and malice," I mused, trying not to laugh at the romantic look on his face. "Again, she's Lady Georgiana Dalessio-Skare of Angeles. Daughter of Octavia Skate and Vincent Dalessio, the CEO of—"

"I don't care about any of that," Cashel interrupted, waving away my words. "She — Georgiana — is amazing. I don't need to know any more than that from anyone else except her."

I laughed lightly and dropped my head. "You seem so sure," I told him, the two of us starting to walk casually. "Are you sure it's not just a simple infatuation."

"Not with a girl like that," he responded with a cheesy grin. I could tell why Octavian liked Cashel. He was always honest and didn't play around with emotions. He also knew what he wanted and was sure of it. I could only wish that I could have his confidence. "I just need another chance to talk to her, then maybe I can convince her to go out with me and I can show her that I'm worthy of her."

I chuckled dryly, remembering what I had told him before. "She's still a Selected, Cash." I reminded him, and his face dropped in remembrance. "It's illegal for a Selected to _go on a date_ with anyone but one of the Candidates. It would be considered treason, and you both would be punished for it. You can't do that to her."

Cashel stopped and stood in his path for a moment, looking defeated. He looked to be in deep thought until he looked up at me with bright eyes and an idea springing from his lips. "After the Selection then!" He exclaimed, beginning to walk again with a dance in his step.

"What if she falls in love with one of us?" I asked him, pointing out a flaw in his plan.

"She won't," Cashel answered simply. But when he saw my apprehensive face, he explained. "When we talked she told me that she had, and I quote, 'absolutely no interest in marrying one of those fake, pretentious egomaniacs.'"

"Why do I feel like you added a couple words there," I responded, wrinkling my nose.

Cashel grinned and didn't respond. He became more distracted with trying to find Georgiana again over the groups of well dressed Nobles. We were standing on a small hill that wasn't far from the main tea, but we could see over all the people. There was Ladies Lanie, Makayla, and Haneul talking to Countess Davina of Atlin. While Winnie, Lena, Temperance, and Addison were talking to Baroness Emerald Conwyn, better known as Emmy, and who was also Cashel's sister. I had to agree with Georgiana on that one — the Conywn family came up with the weirdest names for their children. Ruby, Emerald, Cash, and Citrine Conwyn.

"There she is," Cashel said softly.

"Be careful, you're beginning to sound like a stalker." I teased him. He smiled lightly and had a gentle look in his eyes, one that I had never seen before.

It was weird. Love, that is. This was a competition for love, as the public had been swindled into believing. But I couldn't help but wonder if there really was a love out there for me. The same went for Warren and Caspian. If I was to be honest, I didn't want to relationship like my parents. One of obligation and law, not love and sentiment. Though that was not a privilege granted to people of high power, there were always others who threatened us. And it was our job to keep the peace as rulers. I wanted to be a good ruler, even if that meant I would never make the bolded pages of the history books for my untarnished rule, then so be it. Still, fair morals didn't insure a safe rule. You had to show power and control to get the trust and support of the Court. A family name couldn't save anyone for long. There could be only blind trust, and I wanted that out of true love.

My mind momentarily flashed to Carnegie, who somehow made me flustered and nervous with just a few words. It was a start. Maybe I could find love through the confines of this world. Although that was a whole other journey that I would never be fully prepared for. None of us were. Caspian wasn't nearly ready for any long term commitment, that was obvious to anyone who met him. And as Warren proclaimed himself completely prepared, he must feel fear at some point that he could never really be prepared. And me. The stuttering, nervous, sweaty Prince who was lucky enough to be born in a lucky family.

 _So blessed, that boy,_ they would say when they saw me.

Was I really blessed? To be born into a world of treachery and death? It was only time until something struck, and the consequences would be disastrous. We had to be prepared for anything, and 'anything' was the one thing we were never prepared for.

* * *

 **Blah, I'm listening to Dear Evan Hansen while writing this. Save my soul. Anyway, sorry this chapter is less exciting and shorter than the others, but I promise the next chapter will be more fun and thrilling! So thank you to all my readers and reviewers, it really makes my day when I get an email that you guys reviewed. And please do review this chapter and tell me what you think, I love to hear all your feedback! (And to all my American readers: HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!)**

 **~ Rene**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Playing Games

Perhaps we're not afraid of death

But of our name plucked from the air,

Of the silence that surrounds a thing

That's just no longer there.

For we never really know

The lifespan of a single sound,

How many years after a body stops

A name will stick around.

Perhaps it stretches generations

Echos one last time, then never,

Until the space it filled is replaced

By its unknown loss forever.

Or maybe there's another way

It lives after we fade,

It's why we write our names' on books we own

And all we've ever made.

It's a sliver of remembrance

In a world prone to forget,

The taste of who we were

On the lips of one we've never met.

The hope they'll stumble on the stories

We have loved, worn down with age,

That there they'll find what we left:

Our name upon the cover page.

And for just that fleeting moment

It's as though we've beaten death,

That in the whisper of those words

We have taken one last breath.

~ e.h

 **Warren Schreave**

There were cameras everywhere.

It made sense, it was the third test. One of the most popular at that. The third test was always some kind of physical challenge that was more of a game than an actual test. But there was a dark side to the test — the last three Selected to complete the task would be eliminated from the competition. The reason for their elimination was a mix of how hard they worked, their focus on the task at hand, and the amount of motivation they had. Mostly, the test was lighthearted and fun for all those who completed it, but wasn't as much for the three Selected that would be eliminated today.

We were in a field at the outskirts of Outer Angeles, in a little city called Tracey, which was known for the grape vineyards which stretched miles across the humid grassy farmland. Here, a large labyrinth had been built for the test. In future days, people from all across Illéa would travel to Tracey to see and explore the maze that had been used in this Selection. Another plus was that it would bring more business to Tracey, which was a poorer city of mostly Eights, Sevens, and Sixes.

Right now, the Selected were getting ready to enter the labyrinth. Caspian, Lochlen, and I would be standing in the control room along with the other officials. We would be "monitoring" the labyrinth and controlling points and such. But first we had to introduce the test to the Selected and the cameras. The Selected, clad in their mix of camouflage cargo pants and loose tops, made for easy ability to move and breath, were beginning to walk out of the preparation center. I started to walk towards them, and I made eye contact with Lady Lucia, a timid but friendly girl, and she jogged slightly to meet up with me.

"Isn't this exciting," Lucia said shyly. She was quite tall, almost my height, and we had similar shades of blonde hair, though her hair was more curly. Lucia looked at all the cameras that were set up and the large steel labyrinth that looked like something out of a dystopian film. It was disorienting and geometric in design, with optical illusions at every corner. Entirely made out of steel, it was a masterpiece that was based off of a similar architectural art project in Belgium. Nonetheless, it was cold, steely, and intimidating beyond levels. But this was only a game. Meaning that there would be fun obstacles along the way that would lessen fear of the rectangular maze.

"It is," I responded gruffly that reminded me of the little sleep I had been getting over the past couple days. Maybe my tone was too loud but Lucia seemed to jump a bit at my words. I glanced at her strangely, though she awkwardly cleared her throat and avoided eye contact. Her hands fidgeted at her side and she pressed her lips together. After a few more moments of trying to regain eye contact, to which Lucia refused, and I sighed a bit while looking away.

 _That was weird._

"Warren! Lucia! So glad you could finally make it!" Caspian said dramatically, with a hit of sarcasm towards me. He had a hint of teasing malice in his blue eyes, though he grinned at Lucia in a playful manner. The girl in question looked relieved to have an excuse to get away from talking to me — which I found a little demeaning. I brushed it off, not helping the small frown that graced my lips. Lucia nodded, saying a quiet "goodbye" and rushing off to meet with the other Selected. Caspian grinned after her and slapped an arm around my shoulders.

Flinching at the contact, I narrowed my eyes. "Get your arm _off_ me," I told him menacingly. Caspian merely laughed and slapped my back, which caused me to trip forwards under the weight. I grumbled again and shoved his arm off me. He smirked in response but stayed silent and looked forward. I followed his eyes and saw that we had caught the attention of Brontë and Tessa, who were laughing at our power struggle. Caspian winked at the pair, causing them to giggle between the two. I scowled at their reaction to such a big headed and immature move by Caspian, although they didn't notice the look on my face. "Let's just get on with this," I grumbled, stomping away from the taller Candidate. I found Lochlen next to the assembled stage, stumbling over his cards and practicing what he was going to say. He looked like a lost puppy. Almost laughable. I sighed and grimaced at the younger boy, who was oblivious to my presence while quickly flipping through all his cards.

"Oh! Warren!" Lochlen yelped at spotting my closeness. His hands twitched out of surprise and the cards fell out of his trembling grip. The note cards fell onto the cement ground and shifted with the soft wind. I scoffed at his clumsiness and reached down the pick up the cards. Lochlen tried to help grab the cards he dropped, but I slapped his hand away angrily.

"God, can you not help mess up anything?" I snapped at his shocked face. I scoffed again at his speechlessness and shoved past him harshly to organize the note cards back into their proper order. Once I finished the order of the note cards I slammed them down on an empty craft table with full force. Lochlen jumped again and looked at me with a nonplussed expression. I scowled and loudly slammed a paperweight on the note cards. "You shouldn't need the note cards, you should have been fully prepared and memorized in the first place." I growled at him.

Lochlen stared blankly, lost in his thoughts before coming to the conclusion to talk. "Yeah," he started slowly, "Sorry for that."

I met his stare but willingly backed down when he broke the eye contact. I felt myself coming down from my high of anger from my interactions with Caspian, and almost felt a little bad for my aggressiveness towards Lochlen. But in retrospect, he should have been more prepared and ready for this. He couldn't simply use his nervousness everything he wanted to get out something that he agreed and signed on to do. Even something as simple as a short speech. "Pathetic," I grumbled under my breath.

"Warren, please. Be nice to the young man," Caspian reprimanded playfully, placing a hand on Lochlen's left shoulder. "For Heaven's Sake! It's his birthday in a few fortnights time!"

"No it isn't," Lochlen said confusedly, not catching onto the bone that Caspian was throwing to him. "My birthday is in March, which is in six months from now."

Caspian sighed and patted the shorter boy's back. "I pray for you everyday, Lochlen," he said, shaking his head.

"Candidates to stage! I repeat, Candidates to stage!" Cécile Drake shouted, holding a clipboard. I sneered at seeing her face. _Family backstabber._ She was the woman who denounced the entire Schreave line in front of hundreds of cameras and married off into a non-Royal family without the consent of any member of the Schreave family. She was a true backstabber and had no right to be in my sights.

"Come on, buddy boy," Caspian said, grinning at me. "We have to greet the masses. And for the sake of all of Illéa, please try to look less like you're at the funeral of the person who you murdered in cold blood."

"Your funeral more like it," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?" Caspian asked, feigning innocence.

"He said—" Lochlen started, completely airheaded to our fight.

"Lochlen, do us all a favor and shut up for once," I told him coldly.

The Illéa Candidate froze and nodded his head slightly, realizing his mistake. He was too timid to say anything else, but I could tell that he was fighting for a response or come back. When he wasn't able to find one, he resigned to following behind us. I fought Caspian for first place while walking on the stage, but he managed to shove me behind him on the last second before we were in the sight of the cameras.

 _Asshole._

"Hello all of Illéa!" Caspian orated charmingly to the cameras, then turning to the Selected gathered a few meters away from the low platform that was our stage. "And welcome to the Third Test of the Selection! We will now go over the rules for this Test. Warren, if you will."

I cleared my throat. "The test will take place in the labyrinth behind us," I recited, gesturing to the large steel maze that was looming over us in anticipation. "The rules are very simple. Each Selected will try to get to the center of the labyrinth within two hours of entering the structure. The first three Selected to get to the center will win the game and the last three Selected will be eliminated," I said, which caused light gasps from the Selected at the high stakes of the game. The only three Selected that didn't look the slightest bit alarmed were Georgiana, Matilda, and Gayle. As to be expected.

Lochlen started up after I finished. "You are allowed to pair or group up during the game," he said, addressing the Selected personally. "No more than three Selected to a group, though you will be ranked individually and not as a group. Any cheating, sabotaging, or injuring another Selected will result in immediate disqualification and elimination from the Selection. This is a test of your determination, focus, and motivation. If you have determination, focus, and motivation to succeed, then you will. And you each will be given numbers based on your Province and the amount of remaining Selected. These numbers will be like your names, so don't forget them."

Caspian smiled at the cameras and the Selected. "Now, once all the wonderful Selected take their places at the starting line, we can start the test!" He cheered. The crowd and Selected in front of us cheered as well, the Selected gathering themselves and heading over to the starting point with mostly bright smiles. I fought to put smile on my own face, at least something that looked better than Lochlen's measly nervous grin. I managed a steady, cool smile that I held on to until we got off the stage. Then my face fell into a more natural scowl that matched my mood.

"Candidates, please head to the Control Room for your assignments," Cécile called. She didn't look up from her clipboard at any point, instead ordering people around while she mindlessly tapped her pencil over notes and times written down. I scoffed and turned away from her, still walking over to the Control Center.

"Ey Ey Ma'am!" Caspian yelled in response as he followed behind me. Cécile rolled her eyes Beat him and moved on, which Caspian chuckled at.

Lochlen laughed softly and followed behind the two of us. But Caspian got caught up with grinning and waving at the Tabloid cameras, all desperate for even the tiniest slice and picture of the Royal life, that he fell behind us slightly and Lochlen moved up closer to me. He looked like he was about to say something but I held a hand up to his face and shook my head.

"Do you ever learn?" I asked him sharply with a low voice. "No one wants to hear your shit so you might as well shut up for once and for all. It'll do everyone a favor."

Lochlen looked taken back but slowly nodded his head and stared on airily and numbly. I sighed and wrinkled my nose, then relaxing. He _finally_ shut up. Third time of telling him to shut up today was the charm.

We entered a small building that had peeling white paint covering the four sides of the rectangular building, and gave off a very dingy feeling. Luckily, the inside was far better furnished than the outside. If you saw a picture of the outside and the inside next to each other you wouldn't be able to tell that it was the same building. After impatiently holding the door for Caspian, who was taking his sweet time in annoying me, we finally were directed to the Control Room where we would be monitoring the labyrinth for the next two hours.

"Gentlemen, hello!" A middle aged man with a warm Southern accent said, greeting us all with a firm handshake. "My name is Beau, Cécile put me in charge of making sure that everyone in the Control Room finds their place." He looked at each of us, as if waiting for a smile or a nod. We all responded with blank stares, waiting for him to finish. "Well then, let's get you three to your stations," he said loudly, clapping his hands together. "Lochlen, you will be at the computer monitors with Jilly. Caspian, you will be at the front monitor, watching over the main cameras. And Warren, you will be watching over the side and individual cameras."

I almost scoffed out loud. Me at the side cameras? While Caspian was working at the front monitor in the center of the room?! It was just incredulous to think about. Lochlen was happy with his job, the dumb fool, chatting up with his head supervisor. The man named Beau left the room, telling us that he was checking back with Cécile and he would be back after the test was done. Caspian was at the front monitor, exaggerating his every word and action to mock me. I simply stood in the middle of the room and bit my tongue as hard as I could without breaking skin. I urged myself to not scream and slap Caspian across the face. With creaking motions, I moved myself over the one of the chairs at the small desk of cameras. There were two other people on my left side, but they were far enough away that they didn't try to instigate conversation. This job didn't need any instruction. It was just staring at a boring screen for two hours straight.

Sighing, I watched as the Selected finished lining up through my camera vision. They already started to group up, each with an individual number pinned to their backs. Jessica and Angela. Addison, Carnegie, and Olivia. Brontë and Tessa. Lydia and Andrina. Juliette and Lanie. Marga, Jordan, and Titania. They were all forming their own little cliques. But most of the girls in groups looked excited, not worried or focused. The only serious people were standing alone, their eyes narrowed and legs in running position. Some didn't look to care that much, but it was their loss. They were costing themselves serious points in my record book.

"Selected, take your positions!" The announcer yelled, raising his pistol filled with blanks in the sky. "Three...Two...One...Go!" He yelled, pulling the trigger of the gun and firing a blank into the air. Like a large wave crashing down onto the beachy sand, the Selected ran forwards and I sat back to watch the show.

It started off jumbly. Many Selected bumped into each other or quickly turned down one of the false paths that was laid as a trap. But soon they figured their way around the show. Some were fast, some were slow. Some were giggling, some were serious. Some panicked, some were calm. It was an interesting reaction from all of the Selected that really made me think about how much deeper this test really was. It was more than a game that they played for laughs and fun. It showed how they reacted and behaved under pressure were the wrong turn could mean your expulsion from the Selection and thus the Royal life.

I loved watching them scramble around to find their places. Watching them gave me a sense of power. That I knew where they were going and what would happen to them before they knew themselves. It was not a humbling feeling, but this was not a humbling Selection. It was a fight of power, strength, swiftness, and loyalty. So I settled in to watch the dark haired girl in the corner of one of my screens make her way through the labyrinth.

Juliette Rosales of Baffin was having a surprising amount of luck and speed at the beginning of the game, but she took one wrong turn and had to turn around, promptly stopping and surveying her options. A wise move. Lucia was also quite smart and swift, easily maneuvering around the other competitors, like she had been running through mazes her entire life. Which would somewhat make sense since she was originally an Eight before the Selection. But she kept getting distracted by all the twists and turns and optical illusions of the labyrinth, and was easily startled by the occasional appearance of another Selected. A few others like the pair of Tessa and Brontë were laughing and joking their way through the maze. They were steady but they weren't fast. Meaning that they probably wouldn't come in first place but they didn't have to worry about coming in last either. But they were just what the public wanted — the public example that this was all a game for their entertainment.

Matilda was right behind Brontë and Tessa, though neither girl realized their positioning. I was probably the only one who was watching them, since the cameras were mostly going to be focused on struggle at the maze entrance for now. I watched as Allegra bumped into Haneul and both girls apologized, moving on. The show would soon get boring as the Selected spread out farther from each other, but the maze would get tighter and people running into each other was bound to happen. That was when the real entertainment would start. They would get disillusioned into thinking that everything was safe and regular until the _bang_ of change.

It was absolutely riveting.

I stayed watching my four screens. Making a mental map of the entire labyrinth that I would read over in my head. Counting the time that had passed.

 _Thirty minutes_.

Go to the restroom.

Wash my hands.

Go back to the screens and glance at the newly arrived Cécile.

 _An hour._

Get a snack.

Exchange glares with Caspian while reaching for the last apple.

Grumble to myself after he takes the apple and grab an orange instead.

 _An hour and a half._

I swept the remaining orange peels off my desk and into a nearby trash can. I had about six oranges at this moment and the taste of the citrus fruit still lingered on my lips. I wanted another, but I already got a mocking look from Caspian when I got my sixth. I didn't think that anyone else would care if I got another orange — we were all starving at this point and couldn't wait until the test was finally over — but I was too tired to deal with Caspian's childish antics.

Looking at one of my screens, I noticed Lucia. She was now walking instead of jogging, which made sense since she'd been lightly jogging for about an hour and a half. She was stuck in a rather nasty part of the maze, with almost ten fake pathways and only one way to get out. Lucia looked close to breaking down but she was clearly trying to stick through it. I wished her luck, especially since she was one of the farthest away from the center of the maze. If she didn't get out of there soon she would miss her chance and she would be eliminated. It was unfortunate but it was how the game worked.

I looked down at the trash can beneath my feet boredly. I noticed that one of my orange peels didn't make it into the trash can and was resting just next to the small round bin. Sighing, I allowed myself the strength to reach down and pick up the orange peel, lazily lifting my arm to drop the peel into the trash can. But on my way up from leaning down, I banged my head against the bottom of my desk. Clutching my head, I muttered a few swears under my breath, attracting the attention of my two fellow camera watchers.

" _Fuck_ —"

 _Bang. Bang. Bang._

Three piercing shots roared out through the silent labyrinth, striking the whole room into an immediate silence. My head shot up and my heart pounded in my chest at the sudden noise.

 _What happened?_

A strangled cry burst from the labyrinth, resonating throughout the entire field.

"Cécile, what just happened?" Caspian asked nervously, his voice several octaves higher.

"Check all the cameras now!" Cécile said, choking through her words. It was obvious that it was nothing good; it was dependent on the level of danger. "I want a tracker and camera on every Selected immediately!"

My mind flashed to the mysterious hacker that we had on the Second Test. Was this another attack? King Axel had hired several security detectives to investigate the hacks, but they weren't able to find anything. The hacker had hid their tracks extremely well.

"The trackers aren't working!" One of the computer workers yelled. "All the cameras besides the West Wings are fuzzed and cracking!"

Beads of sweat were forming on my forehead. My heartbeat was racing and my hands were shaking feverishly at my sides. Something was definitely wrong and I needed to know what happened before I busted a vein.

"We should clear all the Selected out of the labyrinth now," Caspian insisted, his voice only the slightest bit shaky. He was trying to remain calm for the sake of everyone in the room, but as valiant as he was, his words were not reassuring to anyone. "We need to—"

He was cut off by another strangled scream from the labyrinth.

It was definitely female.

A few loud cries of pain accompanied the scream.

The sounds pounded in my ears the drums and I felt my face and hands grow numb.

A muffled scream for help was what broke us all from our ghostly forms.

"We have to get medics down there, immediately." Lochlen rushed, being the first of us to take action. He looked terrified half to death but picked up his pace as he commanded the computer monitors to get the cameras and trackers working again. He personally made the call to the medics, who were already on their way after getting another call from an unnamed woman.

I was stuck in a trance, unable to break free of my pounding heart and the memory of those wailing screams of pain. I couldn't feel my arms, legs, or face. Only my pulsing heartbeat and the hot blood that was pumping through my veins. Tears were starting to form at the corner of my eyes from a lack of blinking, though I accepted the pain as a challenge.

 _Bump. Bump. Bump._

My heart palpitated in my chest to the point of pain in my lungs. The short breaths coming from my throat were hot and fast, though not to the level of hyperventilating. _Yet_.

"Warren and I will help the medics find the location of the injured Selected," Caspian told them strongly. He grabbed my shoulder with vigor and shook me slightly from my stupor. I mumbled in agreement, allowing Caspian to begin to lead me out the door.

"Wait!" One of the computer technicians called. "I fixed one of the trackers!"

I jumped at his voice. My eyes shot to the board of lights that lit up to show the health statistics of each Selected. It wasn't fully functional but it showed all we needed to know.

My blood ran cold when I read the one number that wasn't lit up like the others.

 _Number Twenty Five._

* * *

Caspian was walking as fast as he could, clutching a smaller version of a personal tracker in his hands. It was centered in on _Number Twenty Five_ , the light blinking red feverishly.

I felt sick to my stomach. This couldn't be happening.

I couldn't manage to spit out a single word.

Every word I wanted to say — _scream, yell, shout._

All the sound in my voice was caught in my throat.

Dangling off my tongue but not quite out my mouth.

The medics were following quickly behind us as we ran through the maze. We were all following Caspian, who was practically sprinting through the geometric twists and turns of the labyrinth. He was muttering words under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear as I ran only a few paces behind him.

" _Her._ "

" _No_."

" _It's not too late._ "

" _Stop_."

" _Turn_."

" _Please don't let it be too late_."

" _God, not her._ "

" _Please not her_."

My heart broke as I remembered that he knew her.

Caspian and Lochlen knew her.

I hardly talked to her. I didn't know her.

I had no right to be sad.

No right to cry.

No right to feel.

Yet my heart raced and begged for the same ill-fated wishes as Caspian.

I wanted to say something to comfort him.

But I knew somehow that simply hearing another voice from the deep realm that Caspian was stuck in might make him rupture with emotion.

We left the medics behind as we rushed forward.

The wailing voice got louder and louder.

We got closer and closer.

My heart pumped faster and faster.

Images of what the scene might look like floated through my mind.

I immediately pushed them back down.

 _The voice sounded so damn familiar._

 _So eerily familiar._

I could almost picture her.

 _Was it brown, blonde, or black hair?_

 _Did she have blue, green, brown, or hazel eyes?_

I couldn't remember and it was terrifying.

 _The shape of her face._

 _The sound of her laugh._

It was all so much.

 _Her voice when she talked about someone she loved._

 _The—the blood._

 _There was so much blood._

 _It was on the walls, the ground, and it covered her body from head to foot._

 _Blood everywhere._

 _Blood._

 _Blood._

 _Blood._

" _Brontë_."

His voice was so soft, like he was talking to a sleeping Angel.

" _Tessa_."

If he added anymore strength to his voice he might have already broken down.

" _What happened_?"

The two girls were soaked with blood.

The blonde lay on the ground. Her body twisted in the most gruesome ways possible. She wasn't moving.

The brunette was clinging to her body. A red circle on the side of her stomach was growing bigger with every raspy breath she took.

" _He just appeared_." The brunette said softly, despite her quietly wheezing breaths, her blue-green eyes staring up at the sky above us in a daze. _"We had no time to run. He pulled out the gun. Brontë stepped in front of me. She got shot twice. Then she fell. And he shot me._ "

Tessa gingerly lifted a pale, blood-soaked hand to touch her wound in remembrance.

"You're not going to die," Caspian told her tenderly, leaning down to her, a hint of desperation edging in his voice. " _You can't_."

" _Brontë_ ," I whispered to myself. " _Brontë_."

Her lips were a faint blue. The veins in her pale cheeks were visible against her dying pale blue eyes. She looked so peaceful. She could have been sleeping if it weren't for her gentle eyes losing their light.

 _It was too late for her._

There was one gunshot wound aimed straight through her heart. Another through her right shoulder.

"She had a quick death," I said softly, trying to convince myself. "It went straight through her heart. She felt no pain. It was quick."

"It's never painless or quick," Tessa said simply, a tone of bitterness edging on her voice.

She was clutching her wound with one hand. The blood flowed freely nonetheless.

In her other hand she had a tight fist. I notice a piece of paper sticking out of her fingers.

" _Tessa_ ," I started carefully. "What's that in your hand?"

Caspian followed my gaze to her hands, his blue eyes lined with veins of red.

She looked up at us, not leaving Brontë's side. Slowly, she lifted up her hand to us. With a gentle motion, she opened her palm. Revealing a blood-soaked note written in block letters.

Reading the words sent a cold shock throughout my entire body.

 _The first casualties of war are the innocent._

 _\- R_


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Death's Lullaby

Wandering child of the earth

Do you know just how much you're worth?

You have walked this path since your birth

You were destined for more

There are those who'll tell you you're wrong

They will try to to silence your song

But right here is where you belong

So don't search anymore

You are the dawn of a new day that's waking

A masterpiece still in the making

The blue in an ocean of grey

You are right where you need to be

Poised to inspire and to succeed

You'll look back and you'll realize one day

In your eyes there is doubt

As you try to figure it out

But that's not what life is about

So have faith there's a way

Though the world may try to define you

It can't take the light that's inside you

So don't you dare try to hide

Let your fears fade away

You are the dawn of a new day that's waking

A masterpiece still in the making

The blue in an ocean of grey

You are right where you need to be

Poised to inspire and to succeed

You'll look back and you'll realize one day

You are the dawn of a new day that's waking

A masterpiece still in the making

The blue in an ocean of grey

You are right where you need to be

Poised to inspire and to succeed

Soon you'll finally find your own way

~ Adriana Figueroa, _Wanderer's Lullaby_

 **Caspian Valencia**

Angeles was never this dark.

The City of Lights and Stars, they once called it.

Forget any other Province, any other country for that matter. They were all nothing compared to The City of Light and Stars, the place every aspiring artist, business leader, politician, doctor, or whatever, wished to thrive, and make a future and a name for themselves in such a large, competitive world. Though this was the same world, the same city, which just as easily devoured the weak and fair-hearted.

Brontë Persephone Oliver was strong, intelligent, beautiful, unique, and witty enough to hold her own in a battle with anyone—including myself. A righteous masterpiece of a woman, perfection with her fair share of flaws. I could make a proper guess that Lochlen had loved her, at least as much as one could in the short time that we had the honor of knowing her, though perhaps their infatuations for each other may have grown into love if even the appropriate circumstances and time.

Yet, Fate eventually caught up with Brontë Persephone Oliver of Tammins. Though there was another name for Fate, one that I could never die without finally knowing, and the almighty forbid that this 'Fate' was not someone of my own companionship.

"Your Highness, the funeral will begin in less than thirty minutes. The Queen sent me to remind you that you will be needed to take your place alongside the Royal family to give your condolences to the Oliver family."

"Thank you Bernard. I will come along soon," I told the servant.

I sighed into my mirror, hands clenching the sides of the desk to keep myself upright.

 _Condolences_.

I scoffed. Those words would mean nothing.

The King and Queen couldn't have cared less for Brontë or her family. They just didn't want another Revolution on their hands. The situation was bad enough as it was. All of Illéa hated the Illéan Royal Family. The people wanted change in their government.

Brontë's murder and subsequent death definitely was not helping the Illéan rule.

The Illéan Royals wanted to drive the attention away from the Oliver family and their dead eldest daughter. They were looking for something else for Illéa to focus on.

Once the funeral was over and the condolences given to the Oliver family; they intended to make sure that the world would soon forget about Brontë. All of the Royal advertizing would focus on some upcoming event. Perhaps a party.

 _My birthday party_.

It made perfect sense. My birthday was coming up in less than a month. It was a perfect time to start planning, sending out invitations, and display the wealth and flourishing power of the Illéan family. Making sure that Illéa got disillusioned by the colorful lights and brights. The death of Brontë Oliver becoming nothing but a faded memory.

But I could never let that happen.

Brontë deserved better.

Every person that the Royals ever hurt or killed deserved better.

She would not become a faded memory.

They would not become faded memories.

I wouldn't let that happen.

"Your Highness, the Queen requests your presence immediately."

"I'm coming, Bernard. Thank you for the reminder," I said tiredly. I was too exhausted from this entire week to be sarcastic or anywhere close to my usual teasing personality. Slinging my black coat jacket over my arm, I stood from the desk I was leaning over. I started walking out the door of the room I forced myself into, though I found that I couldn't feel my body anymore. I felt numb, empty, lost.

I could only wonder if Warren and Lochlen felt the same.

I saw Warren's face when we first discovered Brontë's body. He looked shocked at first. Then shock faded into disbelief, then sadness, then fear, then anger, then blankness. He hadn't recovered yet. He hadn't been his normal, egotistical self since the attack.

He changed. We all changed.

Lochlen never saw her mangled, blood-soaked corpse. The medics had covered her in a sheet and carried her out to an ambulance before he could see her lifeless blue eyes. He stayed confused and lost until he saw the injured Tessa, who was screaming at the top of her lugs for Brontë to come back. Lochlen fell into shock as well, not quite able to believe what happened in that maze. Next, a brief flash of anger. Then the grief set in.

None of us had reached the stage of acceptance. Reaching that stage would take a while.

The palace was silent. There was the occasional shuffling of a servant passing by with their head bowed and faces unreadable. No one wanted to talk about what happened.

The funeral was taking place outside. It was a beautiful day, perfect for a ceremony. The sky was a deep, bright blue that stretched for miles beyond the palace. The lake near the edge of the palace was sparkling off the bright light of the sun. Black chairs covered in black silk lined the sides of the gravel path where her coffin would be walked down to the funeral parlor in the palace. After the memoriam, her grave stone would be places in the gardens of the palace. The Oliver family would take their daughter's coffin home with them so they could do as they pleased with it.

"Caspian." Lochlen greeted simply. I nodded my head to him and followed him to where the rest of the Illéan family had gathered. They were all murmuring to each other, dressed in their fine garments of black and dark grey. "Warren is talking to Tessa," he whispered to me so his family couldn't hear. "The doctors say that she is healing from her bullet wound and is now able to walk normally, but she has refused to come out of her hospital room."

I looked at him confusedly. "And you think Warren is the best person to convince her to come out of her room?"

Lochlen shrugged. "He volunteered. Said he could talk some sense into her."

"Warren," I murmured under my breath. "Always full of surprises."

"Ah Caspian," the Queen said in her melodious voice, a relieved look on her tanned features. "Thank you for coming out this early into the funeral. We could really use your help."

"Yes?" I questioned, stepping forward.

She smiled happily at my answer, showing her perfect pearly white teeth. "It's about the Third Test. Because of Brontë Oliver's, uh, death, there weren't any official winners or losers of the test. And the public will be expecting a response soon, so we want to know your opinion on how we should handle the situation."

 _Typical_.

The Illéans wanted to distract from Brontë's death by turning back to the original game.

"I think you would be better with consulting with Warren," I told her gruffly. "He was the one who was watching the cameras and could see the rankings of the Selected while they were in the maze."

"Perfect, I'll ask him when he gets back from the infirmary," Queen Mirabelle said gladly.

"No need," the voice of Warren Schreave called out. "I'm here now."

We all turned to see the man in question. He was wearing a classic black suit with a white undershirt and a black tie that was tucked behind his black blazer jacket. His dirty blond hair looked a bit ruffled but he looked as put together as normal. He had a forced, grave smile on his face and he bowed at the appearance of Queen Mirabelle stepping forward.

"Well?" She asked.

"I don't think there should be any winners, in a way of mourning Brontë's death," he said. "But will have 'losers' by simply excusing a few Selected from the competition that have not been handling Brontë's well and did poorly during the Third Test. With all the roar of Brontë's funeral and Caspian's upcoming birthday gala, it will be easy to quietly eliminate a few unnoticeable Selected."

Queen Mirabelle clapped her hands together. "Wonderful idea, Warren. I shall present the idea to the King after the funeral. Lochlen, with me please." She said as she put a hand on her son's back and walked him to the rows of chairs set up for the funeral parade. I turned back to Warren with an eyebrow raised.

"Well that was quite a plan," I told him suspiciously.

Warren looked down and shook his head, laughing bitterly. "I gave them their easy way out. That was all they wanted from me. I have my plans and they have theirs."

"What about Tessa? How is she doing?" I asked him, unable to stop the desperation that etched itself into my voice.

Warren shook his head again. "The doctors have no idea what's going through her head right now. She's half delirious and half in tears. She keeps calling out for Brontë or she just mumbles something about the supernatural."

I sighed and gritted my teeth.

"But that's only what the doctors say." He added quickly.

My head shot up. "What do you mean?"

A darker look formed on Warren face and he did a quick look around us to see if anyone was listening in on our conversation. "When I visited Tessa alone she acted really different. She seemed almost normal at points. But she looked scared most of the time. She kept talking about the guy who killed Brontë and attacked her. She said that he was going to come back and attack someone else again." Warren said in a volume just above a whisper. "She told me that she needed to talk to you privately."

I nodded dumbly, trying to process all the information I was just given. I couldn't lie and tell myself that this was only Tessa making stories up to deal with her traumatic experience; as much as I wanted to believe so. I saw her face after the attack and I reread the note she had in her hand over and over again a million times.

 _The first casualties of war are the innocent._

 _\- R_

 _R_.

Who was the secret identity of this 'R' and what was his motive?

These were the questions that had been swamping my head ever since Brontë was murdered and Tessa was gravely injured. Maybe. Just maybe Tessa could hold a few of these answers.

"I'll visit her after the funeral and everything has quelled down," I told him, nodding my head in confirmation. Warren nodded his head once and tucked his hands into his black jacket pockets, moving to leave. "Wait," I called to him, a surge of painful feeling sprouting in my chest as I paused under his expectant light blue eyes. "Thank you," I breathed out, "For everything you've done to help. You—you are a better person that I realized, thank you."

Warren shook his head and let a hand swing out of one of his jacket pockets. "Hold your breath, Valencia. Don't put that much trust in me so soon."

* * *

The funeral was quite beautiful.

Everything was shrouded in gold and silk.

It was tradition. The mourners would wear black and grey as to represent death and sadness, while the family of the deceased would wear white and gold to represent celebrating the life of the dead.

All of the Oliver family attended. From the youngest William, who wasn't even two years old yet and would never get a chance to get to know his oldest sister, to the eldest Laurence, who was Brontë's father and had quiet tears streaming down his face during the whole funeral. Meredith, Brontë's mother, was holding his hand the entire time as the whole family held and comforted each other throughout the funeral service. The older siblings, Atalanta and Ophelia carried the two youngest Oliver's, Penelope and William, while the middle child Thisbe stood strongly by their sides. They all looked like Brontë, with the similar blonde hair and grey-blue eyes, and it was clear to see that they were all very close to each other.

Watching the Oliver family greve for Brontë brought pang of pain to my chest. I wanted to run up to them, get down on my knees, and apologize until my knuckles bleed and I exhausted myself to near death. They didn't deserve for their eldest daughter die, nor did Brontë deserve to be murdered in cold blood for her family to weep over.

To watch her float above them in a dark oak coffin, dressed in a gown of white lace and gold embroidery. Her pale blonde hair was laid in soft waves that framed her porcelain pale face, which made her appear ghostly ethereal. Her thin, pale arms rested over her stomach with clasped hands, covering up where the bullet wound once stained her bleeding body. Now she looked clean and peaceful, a gentle look settled nicely on her delicate features.

But all I could think of was her dying body. The dark red blood sprayed on the sides of the cold, grey steel walls of the deadly labyrinth. I couldn't get that picture out of my mind as I watched her gowned body float by during the funeral march. I wasn't the only one. Warren had something between a grimace and a hopeless look that appeared on his face during the funeral and it hadn't left his face since the funeral march started. Lochlen was quiet the whole time, not a cough, a tear, or a breath came from his stoney face. Somewhere under his façade of stone was a sense of anger. I saw it in his eyes. While he stood beside his father, mother, brothers, and younger sister, there was a fiery anger blazing in his soul. It was different to the usually calm and collected, if not nervous and timid, Illéan Prince.

There was a mix of pain, anger, and sadness in all of us.

We didn't call for this death. We didn't want it.

But someone killed Brontë Oliver and they would pay dearly for it.

* * *

The funeral was over. Everyone had left. Everything was quiet.

The Oliver family was still in the funeral parlor, talking with a priest about Brontë's proper funeral when they got back home to Tammins. I couldn't stay in the room with them. I wasn't able to look them in the eyes and tell them that I was sorry for their loss. I could barely face them during the entire funeral. I felt so ashamed watching them. I lost a girl who I had known for less than a month, and they lost a daughter that they had known and loved for her whole nineteen years of life.

I couldn't compare to their loss of family and I wanted to tell them so. But I was unable to summon the courage to tell them that. Not while they all stood together in their mourning garbs, with the same pale blonde hair and grey-blue eyes as Brontë. It was like looking into her own eyes and telling her bloody body that I would find her murderer and kill him with my own bare hands if that was what it took.

But I didn't. I left the room in silence.

I quietly made my way down to the lake at the edge of the gardens. It was a small beauty, hidden mostly by trees and brambles. But once you finished the trek to the lake, it was very much worth it. The lake was one of the few calm spots within the chaotic palace; other than the rooftop of the palace, which I could not bring myself to visit.

Once upon a time, I would visit the lake with my older brother Nixon. We would leave our constantly quarrelling mother and father behind to go skip stones over the water. At least I would try. Nixon was always better than me. He would try to show me how to stand and would help me attempt to throw the stone correctly, then laugh good naturedly after I failed over and over again. I was always horrible at skipping stones, and I probably still was just as bad as I was all those years ago. Still, Nixon would always help me. No matter what.

I could only wonder what he was doing now. The last I saw Nixon, he stormed out of the palace after our parents announced me as their heir. But he had time to recover and rekindle himself, at least that was what I wanted to think. He had sent me letter after Brontë's death, which I hadn't gotten around to opening. Perhaps I would open it tonight, I could use a distraction from the hell hole that was the palace. After years of watching our parents fight and argue right in front of our young eyes, we had gotten accustomed to a silent language of "please don't talk about this". So maybe he would offer some comforting words as my brother instead of my rival, and we would have something to talk about in person when he comes back to Angeles for my birthday. But I could long for that day all I wanted. It would not make the day arrive faster.

As I pushed the last bushes out of the way, I stepped into the sun and fresh air that surrounded the clear blue lake. I took a deep, relieved breath in and exhaled all my dysfunctional thoughts out onto the blue abyss. Stepping forwards, I recognized the sand under my shoes and a longing to feel the sand under my feet came upon me. Following this urge, I took off my black shoes and the white socks underneath them. Leaving my shoes and socks behind by the bushes I had come out of, stepping onto the small sandy beach and feeling the grindy sand in between my toes was another welcome relief.

It took me a moment to notice the small footprints in the sand.

Another moment to notice the young blonde girl that stood barefoot at the edge of the water, skipping stones.

"Hello?" I called out to the girl. At first I wondered if the girl was Gwen Schreave, but the youngest Schreave was taller and had darker blonde hair. This girl was shorter with lighter blonde hair. When her name hit me, I recoiled as the small blonde figure turned around.

"Lord Caspian!" Ophelia Oliver exclaimed, dropping the grey stone in her left hand. She had on a white tea dress with a puffy tulle skirt, lace bodice, and a satin fringe that was rolled up to her knees. A pair of simple white low heels were thrown down on the sand next to a pile of stones and pebbles. I tried to smile at the thirteen year old girl, though the results looked forced and painful. Ophelia saw my poorly attempted smile and a sorrowful look appeared on her youthful face. "Are you okay?" She asked, concerned. I opened my mouth to respond that I was fine, but no sound came out. Ophelia paused and looked at me again, with a questioning eye. "Did you know my sister?" She asked calmly, taking a step forward.

I gave her a considering look, not sure exactly how to respond to the younger sister of the deceased girl who I cared for. "Yes," I answered cautiously. "I went on a couple dates with her and we talked often."

"She was nice, wasn't she," Ophelia responded without missing a beat. "She would always take care of us since our mom and dad couldn't because they had to work to pay all our bills. Brontë and I would always sit and read together because I can't run around like Atalanta and Thisbe, but I liked it. We got to talk and share everything we were thinking about." She said, her eyes slightly glazed, showing that her mind was stuck in a memory of her older sister. Slowly, she lowered herself to sitting on the sand, grabbing one of the smooth stones. She looked back at me, pushing a lock of light blonde hair behind her ear. Once she spotted my slightly confused face she smiled slightly. "I have Sickle Cell Anemia," Ophelia told me honestly, a sad smile on her face. "It prevents me from doing a lot of physical activities. Sometimes I have trouble breathing, I get tired easily, and I get a lot of pains. Brontë would always help me deal with the pains and try to distract me from the sickness."

"I'm sorry," I told her softly, taking a seat on the sand next to her. "Can you get a cure?"

Ophelia shook her head and my heart dropped. "It's incurable, the doctors say I won't live to be forty," she said sadly, pulling her knees to her chest.

I moved my eyes from her to soft ripples of water on the lake. "I'm sorry," I said simply, repeating my previous words.

"Sometimes I feel sad about it, but whenever I think about what is going to happen I start praying. I want to be a saint," Ophelia said softly into her knees. "I want to help other people in the world, because the life I have now is my one chance to do something good and help others. Life is short and we should all do the best we can with the time we have on Earth."

"That makes you a very good person," I told her quietly. "Better than me probably."

Ophelia looked at me, though I looked straight ahead and didn't meet her eyes. "You can still be King," she said. "You can correct the wrongs of the people before you and you can make things better. And even if you don't become King, that shouldn't stop you from being a kind, good person."

I finally looked at her, a small smile on my lips. "Y'know, you sound very wise for a thirteen year old."

She smiled as well. "Brontë always said that I was wise beyond my years," she said proudly.

"You should be very proud of your sister," I said gently. "She may have died, but she died protecting another girl from getting hurt. She was a very good person. Selfless and kind. Just like you."

Ophelia smiled brightly at hearing my words and sat back on her arms, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. After a few minutes of peaceful quietness, she opened her eyes and reached for one of the stones by her side. I watched her as she grabbed a rubber band and strapped a thin rectangle to the stone. She turned towards me and offered the stone.

"Do you want to skip one?" She asked with a small smile on her porcelain features.

I looked down at the stone and had a sharp intake of breath once I saw what she had strapped to the smooth stone. It was a slightly faded polaroid picture that appeared to be of Brontë holding her baby brother William with a bright, happy smile on her face. The picture was slightly damp and had a few crackly red paint fingerprints stamped on the frame. On the bottom of the polaroid frame was a few names scrawled in little kid handwriting.

"What?" I asked her weakly, my throat dry and scratchy.

Ophelia placed the stone gently on the sand next to me. "It's a picture of Brontë and our baby brother William. It was taken a year ago, right before Brontë turned eighteen and William was only a few months old."

"What do you want me to do with it?" I asked her again, my voice still weak and scratchy.

She shrugged. "You skip it," she said simply. "You've skipped stones before, right?"

I shook my head slightly. "I used to come out to this lake with my brother Nixon when we were younger and we sometimes threw stones, but we stopped coming here after a while. It didn't matter. I wasn't ever that good at skipping stones. Horrible actually."

"Did your brother ever teach you how to do it correctly," she asked with her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

I shrugged loosely, picking at the sand under my fingernails. "He tried to teach me but I could never get it right. He would try to help me stand correctly or put his hand on mine while I threw the stone. Though I could never do it by myself."

"Stand up," Ophelia ordered. "I'll train you."

"Train me?" I asked, laughing lightly.

She gave me a pointed look and I complied with her order. I stood up with the polaroid-attached stone and looked at her. Ophelia grabbed one of the flat pebbles that she can collected and stepped up to the water. She moved slowly, and I knew she was implying that I watch her. I did so.

"Step one, get a skinny, flat, round rock that is about the size of your palm," she said, focused on the lake ahead. "Step two, place your index finger against the edge of the stone." Ophelia did so and showed me her finger placement pointedly. "Step three, face the water sideways, with your feet shoulder-width apart." She completed the action she described and I began to subtly copy her positioning. "Step four, bend your wrist all the way back and then snap it forward to flick the rock against the surface of the water." She gestured the move, not actually throwing the stone, and the action reminded me of cracking a whip. I copied her movements and looked at her for judgement. She nodded. "Good you're getting the hang of it. Now, step five, get your legs into it. At first you should just practice with your arm, but once you get good at throwing with your arm, you can work your legs into your throws. Using your legs will give you more momentum and you can skip farther." I nodded at her and copied her movements again. I felt my arm getting a little sloppy so I stopped and corrected myself. Ophelia nodded again. "That's your one problem, you don't follow through when you throw. You have to be fully confident in your throws if you want to get them correct. Make sure to whip your throwing arm all the way across your chest, finishing near the shoulder of your opposite arm." I took a deep breath and completed the action with my arm, trying the steady my legs at the same time. Ophelia smiled at me. "Good. You're doing really well! Now all you need is lots of practice, then you'll be really to throw the polaroid rocks!"

"Is that what they're called?" I asked while attempting to throw one of the actual rocks now. Ophelia nodded and began to skip a few of the plain stones as well, though she made far more success than me. All my stones quickly sunk to the bottom of the lake while Ophelia's always skipped somewhere between five to fourteen times.

"It's something that I made up," she said over the sounds of our stones splashing the water. "I liked to skip stones since it was always so peaceful and relaxing, especially since it doesn't take that much physical work. I would sometimes make Brontë come out with me and skip stones. She never liked anything remotely related to exercise. She would always say something like 'I don't really exercise...I take the stairs sometimes.'"

"She was always hilarious," I told Ophelia with a small grin.

She laughed in return and skipped another stone. "Anyway, I liked taking pictures and sometimes if I had a bad memory, I would tie one of my polaroids to a skipping stone and I would throw it as far as I could. It helped relieve stress and bad thoughts. Especially when I feel sad and depressed about my sickness, I remember that there are so many good things, good people, and good memories. And sometimes you have to sacrifice a couple good things to stop a couple bad ones. Like when Brontë sacrificed herself for her friend."

"Tessa," I said softly, "Brontë saved Tessa."

Ophelia smiled gently again, with a few glistening tears at the corner of her blue eyes that she wiped away with a deep breath. I smiled a little, thinking about Brontë and Ophelia's words. For once, I didn't feel angry about Brontë's death. Instead I felt sadness and a little pinch of hope at hearing Ophelia's words. She really was a better person than I was.

After hundreds of failed attempts at skipping the stones, most of which ended up with the stone plopping straight down into the water, I got one stone to skip twice. It wasn't much but Ophelia cheered loudly and it brought a large grin back to my face after a whole day of sadness and mourning. I had finally did what it took me years of practice to complete.

"You did it!" Ophelia cheered, tugging on my arm happily. She was so much shorter than me that I completely dwarfed her, but her bright spirit made up for her lack of height. "You finally did it."

"I guess I did," I remarked, a little dumbstruck. "I guess this means that I can finally catch up with Nixon if we ever come back here again."

"You should try skipping one of the polaroid stones now!" Ophelia said excitedly, handing me the stone with the picture of Brontë and William attached to it. I paused as I weighed the stone in my hand and looked down on the little blonde figure beneath me.

"Ophelia, I don't think that I really should be doing this," I told her timidly, trying to give her back the stone.

Now Ophelia looked the tiniest bit annoyed. "Why not?" She asked, confused. "You said that you knew her and cared for her."

Embarrassed, I looked away from her questioning blue eyes. "I did and I still do care for her, but don't you think that it would be wrong for me as the person who, well, was involved in Brontë's death to dedicate something as personal as this to her."

"But you didn't kill her," she insisted, grabbing my arm.

"You really don't understand." I tried to explain.

But Ophelia wasn't taking any of it. She shook her head and looked up at me. "If anyone other than her actual murderer was to blame for my sister's death it would be me. She entered the Selection because of me. Because the bills for my treatments were so expensive that our mom and dad had a lot of trouble paying them. If she was Selected then the money sent back home would help pay for care and treatment for me and all of our other siblings. And if she was eliminated she would have taken it as a failure on her part. Instead she died without ever living a real life because she spent all her time, every single minute of every single day, taking care of her younger siblings. She was forced to quit school after finishing eighth grade so she could take care of us and she worked just as hard as our parents without question everyday. And when she finally gets her break to go participate in the Selection, she ends up dead!"

At the point that Ophelia finished her monologue, she was in full tears. I moved to comfort the younger girl, who was shaking and had tears streaming down her red cheeks. I had to admit, I was not the best comforter. Even Warren was probably better at this than me. Still, I leaned down and let Ophelia let out shaken tears onto my suit jacket. I didn't mind the jacket getting ruined, I just wanted to find a way to make her feel better.

Slowly releasing myself from her grip, I gently grabbed the skipping stone with the polaroid picture of Brontë and William attached by a rubber band. Walking up to the edge of the water, knowing that Ophelia's red-rimmed eyes were watching me, I took a deep breath and readied myself for the throw. Pulling my arm back, I readied my strong stance and bowed my knees a bit, then flung my arm forward and let go of the stone with a snap. The stone went flying, low and far, until it hit the water lightly in a splash and skipped three more times before finally sinking to the bottom of the lake.

Turning back to the sniffling Ophelia, I had a small smile on my face. "Your turn?" I suggested to her.

She evoked a half-smile and reached for a stone, rubber band, and polaroid picture. She selected one of the youngest Oliver sister, Penelope. It showed the little blonde haired girl giggling happily with her hair up in pigtails. Ophelia tied the picture to the rock with a double knot of the rubber band and stepped up to the plate. She did that same movements as I had done earlier, except her's were cleaner and faster. The rock was flung far across the lake and landed with at least seven or eight skips. I grinned at the result and shouted a "good job" over the whipping wind that had come in due to the later time. Ophelia stared after her skipped stone with a mix of happy and sad emotions on her face. Eventually, she pushed herself to go get another stone and polaroid picture. She picked one at random and started down at it. I looked over her head to see that it was a picture of her and Brontë. Brontë was holding Ophelia in her arms and they were both grinning at the camera. There were many scribbles under and down on the polaroid, including what I recognized as Brontë's handwriting in a message for Ophelia.

Ophelia clutched the picture tightly and stared down at it with a few new tears forming at the corners of her eyes. I could tell that she was debating whether or not she should let go of the picture and all the good memories that came with it. I looked at her with a sympathetic look and cleared my throat, catching her attention.

"Y'know, Ophelia, I don't think that it would hurt to keep one picture. We still have to hold on to good memories somehow," I told the younger girl with a comforting smile. She considered my words of a few seconds before nodding shyly in agreement, putting the picture back down into the little box of pictures that had brought.

The rest of the evening didn't involve a whole lot of talking. Just skipping stones and watching Brontë grow up within an assortment of polaroid photographs. I learned about Sebastian Gellack, Brontë's best friend back home, who Ophelia promised would punch me directly in the face if he ever saw me in person. Apparently the whole Oliver family had been close to Sebastian, and the siblings would always insist that Brontë marry Sebastian someday. Which she might have done if she hadn't been Selected. Afterwards, Ophelia continued sharing about her life growing up and being a part of a family with a wide range of disabilities that took a great cost on their money situation. Even if they had money, taking care of six children was extremely hard, which meant that Laurence and Meredith Oliver had to constantly employ their oldest daughter to take care of her younger siblings.

There was so much to Brontë's life that I had never known. I was learning facts and tidbits about a life that was cut so short. It was saddening at times, funny at others. All the stories that Ophelia told reminded me that Brontë was human and once smiled, laughed, and played. She was more than a deceased figure.

She was Brontë Persephone Oliver and no one could take her memory away from the world.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

The Morning Routine

They say practice makes perfect,

And you've always been smart,

But you've got to stop hating yourself,

Right down to an art.

It's now just a step,

In your morning routine,

To glance in the mirror,

And not like what you've seen,

The voice in your head lies,

But it won't let you know,

You gave up on ignoring it.

A long time ago,

Flowers is a vase,

Keep guard by your bed,

Yet you still see your beauty,

Though their petals are dead.

If they were a person,

They'd hate themselves too,

But they would always be loved,

By someone like you.

Although your petals are wilted,

No you think no one knows,

You are only counting your thorns,

While the world sees your rose.

~ e.h

 **Lochlen Illéa**

It had been a week since Brontë's death and her funeral. The Oliver family had gone home and had their own private funeral at their church in Tammins. My father sent down a team of guards to protect the family during the funeral from any reporters or people seeking a story about the real reason behind Brontë's death.

King Axel and Queen Mirabelle had concocted a story to explain Brontë's death. With the approval of the Oliver family. Neither family wanted it to get out so soon that Brontë had been murdered while under the protection of the Royal Family. The Oliver family agreed that another story would be created until Brontë's true murderer was found and punished. Now, a story of an accidental misfired blank bullet hit Brontë and killed her. Tessa had been got in the crossfire and was injured only slightly, and was still recovering. That part about Tessa was true. It appeared that the bone in her right leg had been fractured after her attacker stepped on it, and her bullet wounds were still healing. The doctors said that it would take her about eight weeks for her leg to heal and up to three months for her bullet wound to completely heal. That was why she wasn't able to attend Brontë's funeral, and the doctors insisted that it would not be good for her mental health to see the dead body of her deceased friend. It would take time for both her mental and physical states to heal.

I looked up from my laptop to hear a knock at the door of my room. I closed the laptop halfway and walked over to the door to open it. I found a simple shoe box on the ground, no bigger than picture frame. Deciding to open the box inside, I shut the door with my foot, dropping the shoe box on a coffee table and plopped down on the sofa behind it. Once I was comfortable, I opened the box filled with white wrapping paper and ripped back the paper to reveal two pairs of shoes.

Recalling my date with Allegra over a week ago, I laughed to myself. We were in such a rush to get away from the paparazzi and crowds that we had forgotten our shoes in that stock locker. But someone, probably the owner of the shop, had recognized who the shoes belonged to by the small name label at the corner of my shoes and sent the shoes back to Palace to be returned to us. I grinned at the shoe box again, stuffing the shoes back into the box and jotting down a mental note to return the blue slip-ons back to Allegra. I slipped the box into an open slot on a bookshelf and returned to my laptop, finishing the email to the Palace Press Secretary about my next date.

I wanted to organize a morning breakfast date for today, since I thought it would be a good idea to help get our minds off of the tragedy that had just occurred. Especially myself. The date was placed in one of the greenhouse that lined the North Wing of the palace. The air was humid, thick, and caused my buttoned shirt to stick to my skin. A large glass dome above our heads was fogged with steam but the morning blue sky shined through. Thick vines of ivy intertwined up the glass walls and surrounded the humid room. Large palm leaves framed the black-and-white diamond patterned pavilion where two white cushioned railed-seats surrounded a small table next to a cart full of jasmine tea, strawberries, fruit-filled scones, and buttered croissants.

I would be forever grateful if the date was happy and relaxing, since I needed to think about something else other than Brontë's dead corpse. But unfortunately, Andrina Pearl Fentworthy was not making that easy.

I leaned back in my seat and poured myself a cup of the sweet jasmine tea in an attempt to look more at ease. "So, Lady Andrina, how has your Selection experience been so far? How are the other Selected treating you?"

Andrina looked up coldly. Her steely glare settling on me. "You mean other than the murder?" She asked coolly, her deathly stare growing sharper.

My blood ran cold. _I definitely ran straight into that one_. "Yes, other than, uh, that." I said uncomfortably.

Andrina sat back in her chair, smoothing out her asymmetrical cashmere sweater without breaking her icy stare. "The girls are all fine. Some are a little aggressive — mainly Matilda, Gayle, and Kazue. Georgie is consistently distant. Lilly is never in the Women's Room, always wandering around the palace. Tessa is miserable. Lucia is too shy to talk to anyone. Temperance is crazy. Winnie is always showing off. Nymaria is wild. Both Lydia and Olivia are calm and never show any emotion. Marga and Allegra are the natural born leaders. Lena talks a lot. Jordan, Lanie, and Haneul are too competitive for their own good. Carnegie, Addison, Titania, Lacey, and Audrey are all that picture perfect nice girl, if you're into that sort of thing."

I was taken back by all the sudden information she had thrown at me about the other Selected, and I didn't know quite what to think about her words. "Oh. Okay then." I said in a small voice.

"I'm not your little inside gossip tip, _Your Highness_ ," she announced bitterly. "If it were my choice, I would be gone from this hell hole already." She added sharply, her gaze drifting distractedly to the plants that surrounded us.

"I'm sorry," I said gently, clearly surprising her for once with my response. "But pardon my asking, why did you enter the Selection if you had no interest in winning."

She shrugged. "I needed the money and I wanted to get away from my family. The Selection provided all of those things so I signed up. My goal was to make it to the Elite to reap the full benefits, but I can tell that probably isn't going to happen."

The first thing that I learned about Andrina was her blunt honesty. She didn't beat around the bush. "How do you know that?" I asked her cautiously.

Andrina smirked and looked close to a laugh. "I may be a mere Selected, Your Highness, but I still have working eyes and ears. You're scared. You described the prize of the Selection as 'winning' which can only mean that you were probably unknowingly following those words since birth."

I took a double take, my heart beating tightly in my chest. "Pardon?"

"I don't doubt that you want love in your life, Your Highness, but you described the prize of the Selection as 'winning' instead of actual love between two people who genuinely came to care for one another."

I blinked, not understanding her words. _Love_? Of course I wanted love in my life, something more than the obligation of an arranged marriage. But then again, my parents had always made the Selection out as a competition with only one winner coming out on top. They never talked about love or how to form a relationship. The Selection was always between me, Warren, and Caspian. No one else. It took a turn to remember that this was supposed to be a competition of love, not power. As far as the public was aware.

Andrina met my eyes again, this time her eyes were softer and more sympathetic at watching my internal struggle. "You know, I always wanted to be a Princess." She laughed quietly. "To live in a fancy castle with my mother, with all the food and toys we could handle. A happier life. Away from my father, who I watched cheat on my mother all the time as a kid. My mother, Violetta, was miserable in her marriage. So I made a promise that I would have a happier marriage than my mother had. Not locked away and lonely. But dreams fade, and my mother ended up dying from cancer six years ago. My father remarried, to the woman he had cheated on my mother with, and they had their own kids. The nasty brats. This Selection was my chance to get away. And with all the luck in the world, I was Selected. _God, you should have seen the looks on their faces_. But clearly, this world is a lot different than I once expected."

"It's not a life for everyone," I remarked with a forced smile, chuckling sadly.

Andrina shook her head, smirking to herself. "Murder, trauma, and dark characters in the night were never really my thing."

I laughed — a real, genuine laugh for once — and grinned at her. "Frankly, it isn't my cup of tea either. But it's my parents' world so I put up with it." I told her, happy to have a shared opinion.

"Your parents. The King and Queen of Illéa." Andrina joked at my expense.

I laughed along. "Yes. The King and Queen of Illéa, the best parents in the world."

Andrina dipped her fork down into her bowl of strawberries, blueberries, yogurt, and granola. She took a bite before shaking her head at a thought of her's, then looking up at me with a fork pointed. "I think you would be a far better ruler than your parents," she told me matter-of-factly.

"I have to disagree." I chuckled. "I would be a horrible King."

She shook her head, resting her fork down next to her bowl. "What this country needs is a smart, kind person with a good head on their shoulders. Not another power-hungry man vying for more power than he can handle. The people of Illéa need someone like you."

"Wise words," I remarked. "But can you live up to them?"

Andrina smirked, her olive green eyes shining underneath her curtain of loose black curls. "Let me stick around longer and I promise you that I can."

"Things can only get worse from here," I warned, a small joke behind my words. "Are you prepared?"

Andrina pushed a curl behind her ear and pushed herself up, until she was standing over me with a grin on her face.

"A wise man once said: 'If you're going through hell, keep going."

* * *

And this surely was hell.

"Today we are saying goodbye to three brave Selected who offered themselves for elimination during the aftermath of this tragedy," Warren Schreave said in a sweeping voice. As much as no one wanted to admit it, Warren was an excellent speaker. "We thank these women for their contribution and we have offered to compensate them for the continuing duration of this Selection.'

Caspian and I stood behind Warren as he rambled on about "bravery" and such. Neither of us wanted to give this speech, and Warren was all too eager to nab any speech that showed off his crowd skills. But I could tell that Caspian was restraining from smacking Warren across the face from the look of his gripped fists and fiery eyes. Drama was going down today and I desperately didn't want to be caught in the crossfire. Because it wasn't just three Selected that were going home today. There was a fourth that the Council had deemed necessary.

Warren Schreave was getting his revenge.

"Will these brave Selected please step forward," Warren called, gesturing with his hands. One by one, they stepped forward out of the weaning crowd of Selected. The cameras flashed as the now ex-Selected faced the crowd. "Lady Angela West of Ottaro, thank you for your bravery," Warren called to the dark-haired lady. The lady curtsied to the stage and walked off. "Lady Olivia Michelson of Whites, thank you for your bravery," he repeated. The younger blonde curtsied once again and took her leave. Leaving only one more girl left to go. "And finally, Lady Lucia Mareen of Atlin, thank you for your bravery to the Crown of Illéa."

The tall, blonde-haired girl stepped forward with tears brimming at the sides of her blue eyes. She obviously hadn't wanted to leave, but she was given almost no choice. Be eliminated publically and alone, with no one to go to. Or be eliminated as a sacrifice and leave a hero in her country's eyes, compensated for her excusal from the Selection. She curtsied to the stage, her head down to hide the tears I had spotted earlier. I yearned to run over to her and give her a hug, but I couldn't break protocol. Especially with so many cameras around.

After Lucia left the room to go pack her bags, Warren nodded to the cameras to start packing up and leaving. The remaining twenty six, soon to be twenty five, Selected ladies shifted in their places, tulle and chiffon dresses brushing past each other. I caught Lena's eye in the crowd, our brown stares meeting. She mouthed: _what's going on_? I shook my head slightly at her, unable to answer with a simple few words. My reaction was enough to warn her to steel up in preparation.

Once the last camera and reporter left the room, leaving just us, the Selected, and a group of guards that were beginning to file into the room. Whispers broke out amongst the Selected and even the usually cool Andrina, who I just had a date with this morning, looked alarmed. It was like they half-expected some Red Wedding-style chaos to break out any second.

Warren went back up to his microphone and repeated a "stay calm"' mantra as one of the more burly guards stepped forward with a scroll marked with the Royal Council wax seal. He opened the scroll, like some sort of Medieval sentencing. But frankly I still wasn't completely aware of what was about to happen.

The burly guard cleared his throat as he faced the Selected. "By order of the Royal Council of Illéa, on behalf of the Royal Crown of Illéa, the following Selected will be arrested and stripped of all titles and powers due to suspicion of involvement in the murder of Brontë Persephone Oliver of Tammins. Now Matilda Mayweather of Yukon will step forward and receive her arrest for the suspected crimes she has been accused of."

A familiar scream rippled through the crowd of Selected as they parted like the Red Sea around Matilda Mayweather herself. A snarl was etched onto her face as she backed away from the guards.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. "I DIDN'T DAMN MURDER ANYONE. WHAT THE HELL IS THIS CRAZY PERSON GOING ON ABOUT? I DIDN'T FUCKING KILL ANYONE!"

"Matilda Mayweather of Yukon, stop resisting arrest!" The burly guard roared above her screams as a pair of guards soared forward in lightning speed to grab her arms and pull her down to her knees. Gasps came from from every person in the room, including myself, as Matilda tried to kick the guards holding her down. The two guards barely blinked at her wild kicks, which only caused pain to herself as her bare skin hit against their armored bodies. She scrambled her legs in pain and flung her legs out again, causing her right shoe to snap from her foot and fling across the room, almost hitting a shocked Haneul in the face.

"I DIDN'T FUCKING MURDER HER! I DIDN'T MURDER ANYONE! WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS HAPPENING?!" Matilda continued screaming as her throat ripped a new one when her eyes settled on a less than shocked Warren. "IT WAS YOU. WASN'T IT?!" She screamed at Warren, who easily faked being taken back in surprise. "YOU LITTLE SHIT! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU! I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!"

"THREATENING TO MURDER A MEMBER OF THE ROYAL FAMILY IS A CRIME PUNISHABLE BY DEATH," the burly guard roared once more, matching the smaller Matilda's painful shrieks. Since Matilda weighed less and was a lot shorter than the guards that held her, she was easily outmatched. The burly guard stormed up to her and smacked her across the head in a punch from his armored fist. I winced as I saw the blood streaming from a freshly created cut on her face from the punch. I was too in shock to move, even Warren looked mildly surprised at the roughness. But Caspian had steaming coming out of his ears after the punch, his face red and eyes stormy with anger.

"DON'T HURT HER!" Caspian yelled after them, trying to get down from the stage but was also being blocked by guards. Albeit less roughly.

" _Lochlen_ ," Warren said in a calm voice as I walked up to his side. "I think we should get Mr Temper Tantrum here out of a room full of bribe-able guards and Selected before he continues embarrassing the entire Valencia line."

"But you don't care about the Valencia line," I remarked.

Warren huffed. "I care about my reputation. And if I'm forever remembered as the King who couldn't keep a wild Valencia in line during my own Selection then I might as well disappear from the history books entirely."

I nodded at him, resisting a grin at his words and self-assurity. Together, we grabbed the arms of Caspian Valencia and slowly pulled him away from the guards he was fighting with and with a final push we got him behind a door and into the hallway behind it. Caspian was still steaming and looked ready to break something. Hopefully not Warren or me.

"WHY THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT?" Caspian yelled at Warren, his angry voice bouncing off the walls of the marble hallway.

Warren narrowed his cold blue eyes. "I took the necessary precautions. I was watching the cameras that were centered on Brontë and Tessa during the Physical Test, you said so yourself at Brontë's funeral. I also saw that Matilda was particularly close, right on their tail, to Brontë and Tessa right before the murder took place. Based on the timing of the gunshots fired and Tessa's leg injury after her attempted murderer stepped on her leg, the murder took place for about forty seconds. Which would be perfect timing for Matilda to have found the murderer or at least have spotted him. But she didn't. So what happened?"

"YOU KNOW THAT MATILDA WOULD NEVER HAVE MURDERED HER, TESSA WOULD HAVE COME FORWARD ALREADY WITH EVIDENCE." Caspian yelled back at Warren. "ANYWAY, THE CAMERAS WERE OUT DURING THE MURDER SO THERE IS NO WAY OF KNOWING."

Warren rolled his eyes. "Please lower your voice, or do you need to go back to kindergarden? Yes, Tessa said that Brontë's murderer was a man, but there is no evidence against that he could have had an accomplice. How else would he be able to get into the maze and be able to escape so quickly if Matilda was right behind them?" He turned towards me. " _Right_ _Lochlen_?"

I shook my head. "Please don't get me into this," I told him helplessly.

"MAYBE HE LEFT SO QUICKLY _BECAUSE_ MATILDA WAS COMING AND HE DIDN'T WANT TO GET CAUGHT!" Caspian yelled, not at all lowering his tone.

Warren raised an eyebrow and shook his head at Caspian. "Then why didn't we find Matilda at the crime scene if she 'scared the murderer away'? Better luck next time, buddy."

With that, Caspian stomped off down the right side of the hallway, muttering curses to himself and Warren. The man in question merely smirked, taking clear joy in getting to Caspian. I paused my thoughts to look back at the now-retreating Warren.

"Why did you do it?" I called to him, my voice echoing.

He didn't turn back to face me but I could still imagine that smirk on his face. "To learn the game you have to play the game, my friend."

* * *

 **Sorry this chapter is shorter than usual, but I promise the next chapter will be longer. Thank you to all my readers and reviewers, you guys always make my day. Don't forget to review on this chapter as well! Please do not refrain from showering me with the same love and affection you guys showed after Chapter Thirteen. Because as a wise man once said: "If you're going through hell, keep going."**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

For Good

Life is unpredictable,

It changes with the seasons,

Even your coldest winter,

Happens for the best of reasons,

And though it feels eternal,

Like all you'll ever do is freeze,

I promise you spring is coming,

And with it, brand new leaves.

~ e.h

 **Warren Schreave  
**  
I slammed my fist down on the bed, opening my blue eyes to the dark ceiling above my head.

 _I couldn't sleep.  
_  
I had tried every method that I could think of to try and sleep. Laying completely still for fifteen minutes, reading until my eyes got tired, changing my pillows, and every other method the internet could pull up. But my mind kept flashing back to the dead, lacerated body of Brontë Oliver. I remembered Tessa's screams and her blood-covered, crazed face as she called for help and Brontë to wake up. How she yearned for the blonde girl's body and cried until she was dehydrated and her eyes were blood-shot red. How Caspian and Lochlen had to forcefully pull her away from Brontë's body so they could treat the girl. All while I watched on in shock.

Then I used Brontë's death as an excuse to get rid of Matilda Mayweather from the Selection. I got what I wanted, but I also had to meet the disgusted eyes of Caspian when he heard what I had done. Before him, there was the Oliver Family. The crying eyes of Laurence and Meredith Oliver, and the not-understanding faces of their younger children. On the day after her funeral, when everyone had gone home and the Oliver family had returned with their deceased daughter's body, I found myself memorizing the names and faces of Brontë's siblings. The second oldest, Atlanta, the closest of the siblings to Brontë, and who had also been born with autism. Next was the sweet Ophelia, who loved to read though was the sickest out of all the siblings, being born with Sickle Cell Anemia. Then it was the ten-year-old Thisbe, the girl in love with music, Princes, and fairy tales. She had a growth disorder as a baby, causing her to be skinnier and shorter than other girls her age, but according to Brontë, she had no shortage of friends. The five-year-old Penelope Oliver was the second-youngest, and the most joking and devious of the Oliver siblings, though born with sporadic seizures that force her to sometimes wear a helmet around their house. Lastly, there was the baby William, who was sweet though a mostly undiscerning personality, but the Oliver family suspected that he was born with the same growth disorder as his older sister Ophelia. I was swept up with the sad stories they shared as a family. My mind was warped around them. I could see their faces in my nightmares. Calling out for help that I could not provide.

But I could no longer stand their faded blue eyes and deathly pale skin haunting my dreams. I needed to get up and move around. Maybe talk to someone or grab a cup of reheated hot chocolate with marshmallows to sooth my sore throat. The only problem was that it was currently one in the morning. No one would be up. Which did mean that no one would question why I was up so early in the morning.

So I grudged my way off my bed, roughly combing my dirty blond hair back with my fingers. A pair of simple dark blue sweatpants rested on my hips and I shrugged on a loose black t-shirt over my shoulders. My eyes blurred over my unfinished letter to Emma laying on the desk, whom I hadn't been able to write to since the Selection began. I trudged forward, letting my legs lead the way while my mind was washed up and blurry.

Eventually, I found myself in front of the kitchen door. I hadn't run into anyone while walking through the palace hallways because of the late time. It was only myself, the darkened lighting of a few shadowy lamps, and my footsteps to guide the way. I pushed open the hard oak door to a surprisingly fully lit kitchen. I squinted my eyes at the sudden intrusion of light. _It turned out that I was the only person awake at these ungodly hours of the morning._

A tall female figure was humming to herself while whisking a glass bowl of chocolate frosting. Her thick chocolate brown hair was pulled up in a high ponytail and a pink workout headband kept any frizzes from falling into her face. Her hauntingly blue-green were dedicatedly focused on her bowl of frosting while a batch of a dozen-something frosted mini vanilla cupcakes rested on a cooling rack next to her and what looked like a chocolate cake was baking in the oven. A half-eaten ice cream sundae of neapolitan ice cream, chocolate sauce, and strawberries was next to the cupcakes and there was a rather large silver spoon sticking out of the glass cup. It reminded me of the ice cream sundaes that I used to make with Gwen when we were younger. But the girl in question was leaning back against the dark granite counter, her eyes never straying away from her bowl of frosting and I felt awkward watching her. I accidentally cleared my throat by habit and caused her to look up in surprise.

"Lord Warren!" She exclaimed jumpily, almost dropping her bowl but managing to recover. "I'm so sorry! I didn't expect that anyone else would be up."

I waved her jumpiness off. "No... no...it's alright," I said tiredly, attempting to remember her name at a point when I could hardly remember my own. "I'm sorry for intruding...uh…."

"Lilly." She laughed, setting the bowl down on the counter.

"Yes, right. Sorry," I told her drowsily, running a hand down my face in another attempt to wake up. " _Lilly_." I murmured her name to myself slowly.

"Late night?" She asked with a curved, knowing smile and sympathetic friendliness. I nodded dumbly in response, opening one of the fridges to look for the hot chocolate as she watched me quietly. I kept searching through the fridge that the hot chocolate was usually stored in but with no luck. My hand was beginning to get cold and numb, so I dropped the box of iced fruit I was holding and pulled out of the fridge, closing the metal door as I noted Lilly's eyes watching me intently. I turned to meet her eyes and we stared at each other. After a moment her cheeks lit up red and she diverted her eyes with a small cough.

"I guess I should be asking you why you're down here as well," I offered with a weak smile.

She blushed, twirling the plastic baking spatula she had been using to stir the frosting with in her left hand. "I'm waiting for my chocolate cake to finish baking," she told me with her cheeks visibly flushing under the bright light of the kitchen, gesturing to the oven on her right.

"I can see," I remarked with a lopsided smile.

She laughed and nodded her head, looking a little more brave. "And what were you looking for?" She asked, looking at the fridge that I had searched through earlier.

I shrugged. "Whenever I can't sleep I come here to the kitchens to heat up some hot chocolate. It helps me relax after a stressful day."

Lilly nodded understandingly. "I know how you feel. And especially now, with everything that happened with Matilda yesterday. Gosh, getting arrested at the palace for murder! Can you imagine? I was scared out of my mind. I just hope that someone clears all this stuff up soon and they can find Brontë's true murderer, because I know that Matilda was always a little aggressive, but I know for a fact that she would never commit _murder_ of all things!" She exclaimed.

I nodded in agreement, though I couldn't help the heavy guilt that settled on my chest. With all her faults, which were many, I knew that Matilda didn't murder Brontë. It didn't make sense for anyone who looked into the case. Even I had seen her turn down a different path just moments before the cameras were cut off, and when her case went to court, that evidence would be the piece that would set her free with full apologies from the Crown. Yet, I still made the anonymous tip to the Council that she had last been seen only meters away from the crime scene before the cameras went out. Which was enough for the Council, who were desperate enough to blame Brontë's murder on someone, even someone who was obviously innocent to anyone who knew her. But I got my revenge and I had to tell myself that was good enough.

"Don't worry," I assured her with the best comforting smile that I could conjure, "I'm sure that they will release her soon enough. There isn't enough solid evidence to convict her. Besides, I was watching the cameras that were in her section of the maze, and I watched her turn down a different path just moments before the cameras were cut off. Matilda will be cleared of all charges and we will find Brontë's true murderer," I found myself telling her intently instead of pivoting away from the topic.

Her eyes lit up and a happy smile rose on her full lips. "I'm glad to hear that," she said, grinning from ear to ear. "It's good to know there are still some chivalrous people here. Especially during such a dark time."

I laughed, happy to change the subject matter. "I've always wanted to consider myself a gentleman," I told her jokingly. I didn't know what it was about these late nights but I found myself becoming more open and joking with each second passing. Like there was nothing left to lose.

"Well that's quite the feat for a man in the day and age," she joked, rolling her eyes. Similar to myself, Lilly was becoming more bold and friendly with every word, smile, and laugh exchanged.

"Unfortunately." I chuckled. Finding myself slowly inching closer to her by instinct, I remembered a rumor I heard about her in passing from different Selected and maids. "You know, a little bird once told me that you don't often hang out in the Women's Room. Is this true? Not that there's anything wrong with that of course."

Lilly ducked her makeup-free face and blushed deeply. "I never really liked the idleness in the Women's Room, or idleness in general. The girls are plenty friendly, but it's rather boring just sitting in there for hours at a time. So I _may_ have accidentally gotten a few jobs around the palace...I work in the medical wing as a assistant and nurse three to four days a week, and I also help out in the library every Tuesday and Thursday morning, and shelf books and such. The kitchen staff are also very friendly, and have given me full access of ingredients. They were really hesitant at first, but they now let me come down here anytime I want, as long as I clean up my mess. Sometimes I help cook the meals, and yes, you ate my buttered mushrooms and asparagus last night. Other times, I bake treats for the rest of the Selected or my maids."

I laughed again. "You sound busy," I remarked, indeed recalling the delicious buttered mushrooms and asparagus from last night's dinner.

Lilly nodded, and said, "Yeah, I guess, but I'm having a lot of fun. It's better than sitting around all day, and it's great for learning."

"I always thought it would be fun to make a day off from Royal life. To live a normal life with no worries about the country potentially collapsing around me," I said, adding a little joke at the end to make my thought more lighthearted.

"I have to warn you though," Lilly said with a sparkle in her eye, "Normal life is far less exciting than palace life."

"Please, if I can get one day without some scandal 'rocking our nation to its core' I'll be a happy man," I told her with another laugh.

"I guess that is the price you pay to be a leader," Lilly remarked with a sad smile. "But you're Warren Schreave, so I'd put my trust in you anyday."

"Really?" I asked her, with a voice far quieter and more intimate than I meant. Lilly looked a little taken back at realizing her words and another small blush bloomed on her tanned cheeks. It was surprising thought to me now that I thought about it. Having a monarch meant putting your trust in a figure whom you barely knew, who inherited power from their parents. It was the way that most countries ruled now. Still, the thought was strange when I really thought about it. "I didn't mean it like that," I apologized, "It's just a little strange thinking about that."

She looked up, tucking a few loose strands of her ponytail back behind her ear and gave a small smile. A loud ring went off that made us both jump out of our silence. Lilly quickly turned around to see that the timer for the oven went off. She opened the oven with an ungloved hand and paused before reaching into the oven to pull out the cake. She looked around for the oven mitt but it wasn't near her. I surveyed the kitchen and eventually spotted a stack of colorful oven mitts piled up in a cabinet on the other side of the kitchen. I swiftly made my way over there and grabbed two mitts before rushing back to Lilly and handing her the mitts. She quickly thanked me and slowly reached in to grab the still-hot cake pan out of the oven. Noticing that she didn't have another cooling rack, I pulled one off the racks above our heads and laid it down for her. She thanked me again and I helped her flip over the cake pan to get the fluffy cake out of the pan without breaking it. The cake ended up breaking a little down the middle but it was nothing a few layers of the chocolate frosting couldn't cover up. When we finally managed to fix the cake onto the cooling rack and throw the steaming cake pan into the sink, my arm accidentally slipped around her as I looked for another baking spatula to clean up the crumbs with. In both of our rushes, my arm fell around her waist and she quickly turned to find her hand on my chest with ourselves pushed together. I felt my cheeks light up at noticing our close positions and we quickly separated to a few feet apart.

"I'm sorry—" I tried to say.

"Are you—" Lilly said at the same time, causing us both to stop and blush again.

"Sorry, you go." I laughed nervously.

"I, uh, meant to ask, um well…" Lilly stuttered over her words.

"I'm sorry. It was my f—" I tried to say again.

"Are you hungry?" She blurted out. Her eyes widened at her words and she ducked her head again shyly, a blush prominent on her cheeks. I laughed awkwardly, and Lilly cleared her throat in preparation to start up again. "I meant, since you came here, you must be hungry. I could whip up some of my famous hot chocolate if you help me frost this chocolate cake." She suggested, her eyes showing that she was clearly still mortified by what she said before. I couldn't help but flush a little at the memory.

I grinned a little. "That sounds great, thanks."

Lilly blushed again and turned to the cabinets above her head to look for the cocoa powder. I pulled out two ceramic mugs from a drawer nearby. The mugs had pink and purple floral patterns decorating the sides. Lilly smiled as she saw them and pulled out a kettle from one of the racks of kitchen equipment. She placed it on top of the stove, made sure there was water in it, and turned on the boiler. Once the boiler was steamed up and ready to go, Lilly turned back to me and I smiled at her awkwardly.

"So...should we get on frosting that chocolate cake?" I asked with a small smile. She nodded her head slightly, a deep blush on her face still visible. She took the bowl of frosting and handed me one of the extra baking spatulas. I took it gratefully but set it down. "I'll hold the bowl and you scrape out the frosting?" I suggested.

"Sounds good," she said with a shy smile.

I grinned at her and grabbed the bowl. I held it up over the cake and angle it so it hovered over the two inch layer cake. She lifted her spatula to the bowl and scraped out the chocolate frosting onto the cake in smooth layers. After all the chocolate frosting was poured onto the cake, I set the bowl down and watched closely as Lilly smoothed the frosting all over the cake. She had far better cake decorating skills than I did, she would have to teach me how she managed to get the frosting on the cake so smoothly, though my pride might prevent me from ever asking the question. She used the flat baking spatula to smooth the frosting over the sides once the top layer was all smoothed over and flat. Her eyes were completely focused and full of determination. I couldn't help myself with watching her. There was nothing I loved more in a person than determination and focus.

"By the way, in case you were wondering," Lilly began with a smile, leaning up from icing the cake."The cake is for Adri — Adira — and Gwen. We were having a sleepover in my room and I wanted to surprise them. I know it's really weird to have 35 strangers show up at your door and invade your home, but the two have been so nice and sweet to me, and they really remind me of my own sister, Clara. I hope they like it."

I couldn't help the look of surprise on my face. _My sister Gwen had found a friend in one of the Selected?_ The girl would barely talk to me anyone more. Much less any Selected who she met a month ago. Though I could tell that Lilly was very nice and friendly, it was still surprising that Gwen, who was notorious for her long-lasting bad moods and who was never interested in friendship other than with the daughter of a rival house, decided to become friends with a girl who, as Lilly said, showed up at her door and essentially invaded her home. But if spending time with Lilly and Adira made my little sister happy then who was I to intrude?

"It's good to hear that Gwen has been making friends, she's been so sulken for the past month since the Selection first started." I told her, offering a glad smile. There was no need to tell Lilly about Gwen's partially-secret engagement to the Prince of England. No need to ruin a perfectly good conversation with a darker topic.

"Of course! Lacey first introduced me to Adira and Gwen, who did seem a little down and unhappy when we first met. But after some time, talking over hot chocolate — which I can safely guess is your favorite drink as well — she opened up more. Gwen is really such a lovely girl, and I understand how hard this whole thing must be for her." Lilly remarked sympathetically. With that, the alarm for the kettle went off and signaled that the boiling water was ready for the hot chocolate. "Time for the hot chocolate it seems." She laughed, pulling on one of the oven mitts again to reach for the handle of the copper kettle. I pulled the mugs for the hot chocolate closer and watched as Lilly poured the hot water carefully into two separate measuring cups. "Now watch closely," Lilly whispered, closely measuring the hot water to each centimeter of an ounce. "You need one fourth cup of unsweetened cocoa powder, one half cup of granulated sugar, one third cup of hot water, one eighth teaspoon of salt, two and a half cups of milk, and one teaspoon of vanilla extract exactly."

Listening to her instructions, I got all the ingredients she listed out of the pantries and cabinets, as well as all the measuring cups and instruments. Once all the ingredients were out, I looked to her for more instructions. She nodded at the ingredients and continued with her list.

"First, combine the cocoa, sugar, water, and salt in a medium saucepan."

She got down a saucepan from the top shelf, and I helped her measure out all of the ingredients to pour into the pan. The one fourth cup of cocoa, one half cup of granulated sugar, one third cup of hot water, and one eighth teaspoon of salt. I carefully measured each ingredient and handed them to her to add to the saucepan.

"Second, over medium heat, stir constantly until the mixture boils. Cook, stirring constantly for one minute."

Lilly turned on the stove under the saucepan and all the ingredients began melting together. She mixed and stirred the ingredients with a large wooden spoon instead of the rubber spatula for safety, until the mixture boiled together like her instructions said.

"Next, stir in the milk and heat, but do not boil."

I turned down the heat just a little bit so the mixture stopped boiling and Lilly poured in the two and a half cups of cold milk. Which would have cooled down the boiling mixture enough even if I didn't turn down the heat a little. But Lilly still stirred the milk with the mixture of cocoa and sugar, with the heat of the stove hot enough to keep the cocoa warm.

"Lastly, remove from the heat and add vanilla; stir well. Serve immediately." Lilly finished with a big smile on her face. I met her smile with my grin and I went to go pour the vanilla. It turned out that Lilly had the same thought and our hands met as we both reached for the small bottle of vanilla. We both blushed and pulled our hands back. "Um, you can go," Lilly said with a little awkward laugh, her cheeks still rouge.

"Thanks," I responded with a short, equally awkward laugh. I brought the vanilla to the sink next to Lilly and uncorked the bottle over there so any spills would go right down the sink, being keenly aware of Lilly's eyes watching me. I measured the teaspoon of vanilla out and poured it over the saucepan as instructed. After spilling a few drops of the vanilla on my hand as I screwed the top back on, I turned back to her to ask if she could hand me a paper towel. Apparently my sudden closeness made her yelp as soon as she realized and the wooden spoon she was holding flipped over onto the counter, a few of the steaming hot drops flying onto her hand. She yelped again in pain and I immediately turned off the oven and rushed to her side. "Shit," I hissed, "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump."

Lilly gave a halfhearted smile while clutching her slightly burned hand. "No, it's not your fault." She laughed a little. "I'm just really clumsy." I laughed along with her and grabbed a paper towel that I ran under some cold water, then handed it to her to help clean off the chocolate and sooth the small burn that was due to be there. "But I think the hot chocolate is ready to drink if you want to pour it into the mugs," she suggested with a small joking smile.

I laughed. "I'll get on that."

"Don't forget the marshmallows!" She called, now having had sunken to the floor and leaning up against the back of one of the cabinets we used to prepare the hot chocolate.

"I won't!" I called back, laughing. Before I got the mugs, I went to the drawer where the marshmallows were kept. Gwen and I used to raid the kitchen looking for sweets when we were younger — particularly the marshmallows. It used to be a running joke with the kitchen servants when they came to work in the morning and discovered the entire palace supply of marshmallows to be completely gone. Still, to this day, the kitchen servants hadn't bothered to change the location of those delicious marshmallows. I pulled a bag of the puffy white marshmallows out of a drawer with a rather worn handle and headed back to the mugs. I dropped the bag of marshmallows to Lilly's lap which was rewarded with a quick "thank you" and I got the mugs. Being careful to use the oven mitt while pouring the hot chocolate from the saucepan and into our two floral-patterned mugs. After leaning down and placing both mugs on the floor, both in front of Lilly, I plopped down next to her and grabbed my mug tightly with two hands.

"Here." Lilly offered me the popped open bag of the miniature marshmallows. When I was younger, I often found that I could fit far more marshmallows in my mug of hot chocolate if I used the smaller versions instead of the larger forms. Honestly, wonderful detective work from my younger self. But I enjoyed the mini marshmallows better for hot chocolate and the regular marshmallows were better saved for s'mores.

"Thank you," I told her. Taking the bag, instead of pouring a few into my hand and gently placing them in my mug, I tipped the bag and poured a whole load of the mini marshmallows into my mug until they overflowed to the top. Lilly's blue-green eyes widened next to me as she looked at my mug.

"You put, like, nine thousand marshmallows in your hot chocolate."

"Problem?" I asked theoretically while sipping my mug of hot chocolate and nine thousand marshmallows.

Lilly looked once more at my mug, then shook her head and leaned back against the cabinet behind her, sipping her own cup of hot chocolate. "Nope. Then again, who am I to judge?"


	17. Chapter Seventeen

London Calling

"How to become a storm: love yourself so much

that you laugh with pity in the face of anyone who

tries to throw cruelty and negativity in your face.

How to start a wildfire: encourage other women

with the hearts of lionesses like yours to do the

Same."

\- Nikita Gill, _Disaster Training_

 **Caspian Valencia**

To the surprise of everyone, including myself, my mother was in Angeles once more.

Odelia Valencia had returned early from her trip to London along with Ambassador Atlas. Instead of staying the full duration of their diplomatic trip to Prince Tarquin's eighteenth birthday celebration, the Council had deemed it necessary that they return at once due to new arising circumstances.

The first thought that came to mind was Matilda's arrest a week ago. But she had already gotten a lawyer who apparently had information from an undisclosed source who was encouraged to send it in that Matilda had last been seen turning down a separate path from the one that Tessa and Brontë were traveling down. Though her lawyer was convinced that this new evidence would win Matilda her freedom and would avoid an accidental public execution of an innocent who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I would be rooting for her all the way and, if needed, I would provide my own testimony to vouch for her. Anything to get her out of that jail cell.

But that couldn't be the full reason that the Council, headed by King Axel, though he didn't have full control over any decisions, would call back Duchess Odelia Valencia and Sir Winslow Atlas from their important diplomatic trip to England. Which would help solidify the future marriage alliance between Gwendolyn Schreave and Tarquin Windsor. Whatever the true reason was, it had to be important.

Currently, I was waiting outside the Council Chambers with Warren by my side for my mother to come out. I still wasn't happy with him right now. He sent me a letter, instead of talking in person, that said he would be making sure that Matilda came out safe and sound from that jail cell, with his apology and the apology of the Crown. I grudgingly accepted it, since there was no better deal, but that didn't mean I had to be happy with his presence.

I tapped my knee impatiently, feeling very jittery and restless. My mother hadn't bother talking to me before she went straight into the Council Chambers with Ambassador Atlas. Apparently Marga was also excited to see her father for the first time since he set out for England, but she had been forbidden from attending the Council Meeting, just as we had been, or the wing of the palace that the Council Chambers were in, which was a privilege Warren and I had been hesitantly granted.

The Council, King Axel, Odelia, and Ambassador Atlas had been in their meeting for over an hour now. King Axel had requested that Lochlen be in attendance as well, or at least waiting outside, but he was currently on a pre-scheduled date with Lady Lanie of Allens. So it was just me and Warren waiting for the Council to finish. Warren was reading his copy of _The Ghosts of Heaven_ while leaning back against a stone pillar, and I was fidgeting in my seat waiting for my mother to finally come out and tell me that the hell she was doing there.

It was under no question that Duchess Odelia hated Angeles with a burning passion. It reminded her what she could have been — the Queen of Illéa. Instead, all those years ago, the role went to the Lady Mirabelle of Angeles, and the now-current Queen took the utmost pleasure in mocking Odelia for her loss of potential power. But with whatever was happening in that meeting, it was presenting my mother with enough power that would willingly bring her back to her least favorite province of Illéa.

I sighed impatiently out loud, causing Warren to look up inquisitively from his book. "When will they come out?" I groaned, hitting my head back against the wall. "I just want to—"

The door to the Council Chambers sprang open, making me jump at the sudden noise. Warren looked at me humorously, without any words. He seemed to be happier than he had been in a while, but perhaps that was due to my pain. Groaning in pain, I glanced towards the door where the Council members were filing out. As King Axel finally walked out of the room, looking regal as always, Warren leisurely got to his feet and bowed. I followed his motions, though less smoothly.

"Good afternoon, King Axel," Warren said smoothly to the taller King. He nodded curtly and moved aside, walking away with a handful of advisers clinging to his side. The King didn't look happy, which could only mean that my predictions for my mother were correct. Warren stared unblinking at another figure coming out of the room, who I could not see with the other Council members blocking my view, but I knew who it was without seeing. "Duchess Odelia," Warren remarked once more, leaning into a deeper bow.

"Good afternoon, Earl Schreave," Odelia said with a coldness to her tone that only she could achieve. After acknowledging him, she turned to me.

"Mother." I said curtly, bowing as well.

"Caspian." She responded, her tone no warmer than with Warren.

" _My lady_." All the Council members murmured as they took their leave, bowing to her and briefly acknowledging Warren and I. Leaving, Warren and I alone with my scheming mother.

Once Odelia watched the last Council member disappear around a corner of the palace, she turned back to the pair of us. "Thank you for waiting for the meeting to finish. We discussed many important topics to King Axel, the Council, and for the sake of Illéa." She began with tucking her clipboard under arm. _I didn't like where this was going_. "The Council has delegated an important task to me, as the manager of the palace's security and detail. To begin with completing this task, I will need to visit the Selected."

"Most of the Selected will be in the Women's Room right now, my lady," Warren immediately responded, not hiding his eagerness to assist my mother in her tasks if it was in the name of the Crown.

"Mother," I started cautiously, as I always has when dealing with Odelia. "What do you have planned?"

She gave an almost venomous smile that made me coil backwards under her sharp brown gaze. "You'll see soon enough."

* * *

"Mother, please," I tried to argue. "This isn't a good idea. The Selected just recently suffered through a tragedy, they don't need another worry on their plate right now. Warren and I are still trying to convince them that they aren't going to be murdered in their bedrooms at night."

"We need to weed the weak ones out, darling," she purred, much to my chagrin.

"Please, mother—"

Odelia took a deep breath, continuingly ignoring all my warnings, plastered a cunning, fake smile on her face and pushed through the doors to the Women's Room.

"Hello Selected!" She exclaimed to the surprised ladies that looked up from their magazines, books, and phones. Almost all the Selected were in the room, save Lillian, Lanie, and Tessa. "I've come here to—" Odelia stopped and swerved to her left, her almond brown eyes narrowing on two of the Selected who were happily talking to each other. "Ladies." She repeated loudly in their direction.

The ladies Jordan of Dakota and Jessica of Hundson looked up with surprised looks on their faces. They had been sitting together, talking and laughing, in a far corner of the Women's Room on couches next to a large window that showed the blooming garden. The scenery of their location, although the terrified expression on both of the ladies' faces ruined the picture. As it seemed, the two had been talking and so focused on each other that they didn't notice Odelia come into the room. Earning the wrath of my mother.

"Ladies, please come here," Odelia commanded tightly. The girls did as they were instructed and slowly walked up to her, while I tensed as I watched from the door frame of the Women's Room. "What are your names?" She asked coldly.

Jessica looked up at her timidly, her dirty blonde hair held back from falling in her face by a braid. "My name is Jessica Mallory, my lady."

"And I'm Jordan," the darker haired girl said carefully.

I didn't have the chance to go on a date with Jessica yet, only Jordan, but at this point I expected that I would not get the chance to go on anymore dates with either of them.

"Ladies Jessica and Jordan," Odelia repeated with an icy tone. "You have disrespected me by interrupting my important announcement to your fellow Selected. I will not tolerate any rudeness or disrespect towards myself or the Crown of Illéa, whom I have represented for the past twenty years of my time spent in service of Illéa. How long have you both spent at the palace? Barely a month? But that is apparently enough to consider yourselves more important than the High Duchess of House Valencia. I will not tolerate your behavior today, which has showed me more than I need to know about your characters. You may begin packing your bags now, ladies. I expect you both to have exited the palace grounds and the province of Angeles by tomorrow morning, knowing that you are leaving in disgrace in the eyes of the Crown."

Gasps went around the room and I sucked in a little breath myself while watching the scene. _My mother couldn't just do that. Could she?_

Jessica broke down into tears, hiding her face in the arms of Jordan, who looked extremely disappointed herself. As Jessica cried, Jordan lead the younger girl out of the room. Down a separate hallway that most likely lead to the Selected chambers. With that business taken care of, Odelia turned back to the remaining Selected, most of whom were in shock, with a tightly lipped smile.

"Due to the recent tragic circumstances that have befallen the Royal family, I've been given permission by the Council of Illéa to eliminate any and all Selected during this competition if deemed necessary by myself, the Council, or on behalf of one of the Candidates," Odelia recited with an almost devilish smile lurking behind her cheery features. "It's wonderful to meet you all, I hope that we shall be great friends if one of you wishes to become the future Queen of Illéa and my daughter-in-law!"

"Mother…" I groaned to myself outside of the Women's Room.

I wanted to say something to her, and I made a move to do so but the doors slammed unexpectedly in front of my face. Leaving the Selected stuck in a room with my devilish mother, who was indeed the High Duchess of House Valencia herself.

"Dear god, if that is not the ultimate definition of a Valencia in human form…" Warren muttered besides me.

"The question is, who in hell's name thought it was a good idea to give my mother power over the Selection?" I muttered back, low enough that my mother couldn't hear couldn't hear through the door. I messed with the lapels on my jacket nervously. Everyone in Illéa knew the strength of Odelia Valencia and what could happen when she got the power she always vied for. No wonder King Axel was looking angry earlier.

"I guess you'll have to ask King Axel that himself," Warren said, staring at the closed door. "By the way, you didn't see Lady Lilly—Lillian in there did you?"

"No." I groaned, running a heavy hand down my face, leaning back against the wall. "The last I saw her was in the library."

"Do you think your mother will eliminate her for not being in the Women's Room?" Warren asked quietly, fidgeting with his fingers a little. I looked up from my misery to wrinkle my nose at him and glare slightly. " _What?_ " Warren asked, annoyed. "You know your mother. I'm just looking out for her so another innocent Selected doesn't get eliminated by your evil mother."

"Probably...maybe—I don't know! I can't control my own mother." I said exasperatedly, throwing my hands in the air.

The door to the Women's Room finally creaked open, and with her final words, Duchess Odelia Valencia walked out of the Women's Room with the doors slamming behind her dramatically. Leaving the undoubtedly terrified Selected behind to whisper to one another. Her clipboard was held in her right hand, with a few names scribbled down in her neat handwriting, and a pen in her left hand.

"Warren, if you would please leave us," Odelia ordered to the blonde boy by my side. He nodded and shot me a look that I didn't have time to read before my mother redirected my attention. "Caspian, I've written down the names of a few Selected whom I found unfit during my conversations with them." She said, handing me a piece of plain white paper with five names scribbled down in an orderly fashion. I squinted at the names and took the paper from her hands.

"Makayla Riservar of Honduragua?"

Odelia blew air out of her nose in annoyance at some memory. "An annoying, rude girl. Kept talking about herself and her family. She was trying to hard to impress me, which would not be a good trait in a future Queen of Illéa."

I nodded slowly at her. I didn't have the chance to get to know Makayla, but I could follow my mother's instructions on this one easily enough. Looking back down, I became confused at the next name. "Lillian?" I asked, confused since the name was written down but later crossed out.

She nodded. "The girl wasn't in the Women's Room so I automatically wrote down her name. But that girl, Gwendolyn Schreave's nanny, told me that she had come down with some cold and was staying the whole day in her room. But I'll visit her tomorrow and check in to grade her adequacy."

"Very well then," I told her. I'd have to send a message to Warren and tell him that Lilly was safe, but she "came down with a cold" that prevented her from being in the Women's Room today. I looked down and squinted at the paper again. "Andrina? Why did you write her name? She was perfectly nice when I met her."

"Yes, but I have a source that records her practicing illegal work outside of her Caste," Odelia seethed. If there was one thing my mother loved more than anything else in the world was the Illéan Caste System. She hoarded a strong, unbent hatred against anyone who broke the law of the Caste System. Odelia Valencia loved being on top and there was no better hierarchy than the Caste System, in her mind. "She was born and lives a Three, but she decided to break the law and work as a Tattoo Artist under the name of Alyson, her late mother's maiden name. Due to her criminal record, she is not fit to become Queen."

I was reluctant to let Andrina go. I didn't care that much for the Caste System, and I personally would have gotten rid of the demanding Caste System if I became King. But unfortunately there weren't enough people that would have supported the plan for it to succeed. According to Lochlen, Andrina was a wonderful talker and was quite interesting. But perhaps I could make a deal with my mother that would let her leave in safety instead of being punished for working out of Caste.

Still, I hesitated before I spoke. I didn't want to eliminate Andrina and no one would be happy about her leaving. "Perhaps we could let her leave with a warning to not let us catch her working illegally outside her Caste again or she will be severely punished. And considering that she will be a past Selected, and a viable marriage candidate for many suitors in Illéa, there would be no way she can sneak around anymore. All she needs is a little push," I offered, feeling sick as I said those words. I wanted to yell at my mother that she can't eliminate people left and right because she didn't like them. But there was no use fighting with her. Odelia always got what she wanted.

She gave me a pointed glare. "I'll consider it." She made a small note on her clipboard. "Next, I have Lady Lanie Carlisle of Allens."

"Wait, why would you eliminate her?" I asked, confused. "She wasn't even in the Women's Room. She's on a date with Lochlen right now."

Odelia blew air through her lips. "Exactly. She wasn't in the Women's Room. She instead chose to skip this meeting and go off with that Prince. She knew I was here at the palace, yet she didn't stay to meet me. Thus, she disrespected me and cannot be considered a viable marriage candidate for you."

"Mother, not everything is about me." I sighed, a little surprised that I said those words.

She raised a hand to my cheek and brushed a thumb over my cheekbone, a momentary soft look on her face that made me relax. "You are my son. Everything will always be about you. I am doing this to fight for you and our family. I am only doing this for you and only you.

I shook my head and looked down, feeling guilty for my next words. "I understand, sorry. But please, can we stop this mass elimination for now? We've already eliminated six Selected, not including Brontë, in the past week. Three more is going to cause some suspicion."

"You're right," Odelia agreed, much to my minor surprise. "But there is one more girl that I must insist that we eliminate."

I sighed again, leaning against her hand on my cheek. "Who is it?"

Her hand dropped from my cheek and her face hardened. "Thessaly Valois of Kent—"

"No." I interrupted firmly, taking a step back from her. "Not her."

Odelia looked up at me, annoyed. "With all the trouble she has caused? The last thing we want is for her to be in the spotlight right now."

"Exactly." I argued, desperate for leverage. "If we eliminate her then she'll be put directly back in front of millions of cameras. You can't control her if she leaves."

"You underestimate my abilities, Caspian," she responded smoothly. "I can keep her safely locked away until everyone forgets about her and what happened."

"No—"

" _Do not_ argue with me, Caspian Tybalt Valencia," Odelia seethed darkly. "You _will_ listen to what I say and you _will_ cooperate."

I recoiled back, my heart pounding. I didn't want to give in. But what choice did I have?

* * *

I hesitated to push open the door to Tessa's hospital room. Gathering my strength, I pushed the door open and met the eyes of the broken girl laying on the white hospital bed.

"Caspian. You came." Tessa remarked simply. She sat up on the hospital bed, with her legs under the stiff white sheets with pillows under the sheets supporting her one fractured leg. Her glossy dark brown hair was spread out messily around her head while her blue-green eyes smoldered against her pale skin in the room's dimmed lighting. She looked over to me with expectant eyes.

"Tessa," I answered weakly, grabbing the door frame for support. The door swung close behind me and pushed me forward. Stumbling forward, I regained my balance and met her ghostly eyes again. We stared at each other for uncountable seconds of tension. I felt a weight in my chest surge me forward to her. I fell onto the bed and pulled her into a tight hug, causing her to gasp in surprise, then wrapping her arms around my shoulders. "I'm so sorry this happened," I whispered into our hug. She didn't respond right away, only hugging me tighter.

"It wasn't your fault," she eventually whispered back. We hugged for a few seconds longer before separating and I fell next to her on the bed, leaning back against the wall.

"God, I feel so stupid." I groaned into my hands.

"Come on, don't be like that," she responded with a half hearted smile.

I looked at her again with my hands held in front of my head. "Brontë is _dead_ and you're in the hospital with a fractured leg and a bullet wound. The nation is about the explode in shambles, everyone hates the monarchy, and there's a murderer loose on our hands." I told her imminently. Tessa glanced down at her stomach, where several layers of white bandages were wrapped around her healing bullet wound. I could tell from the look in her eyes that she was reliving the moment of the bullet hitting her. Of Brontë's death.

She looked back up at my eyes. "Then you have to do something." She answered simply.

"I can't do anything." I sighed. "I have no control anymore. This whole thing is going to hell. I can't even talk my mother out of eliminating any of the Selected she wants. Including you."

"What?" Tessa asked, creasing her eyebrows in question.

I hit my head back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. "That's what my mother sent me here to do. To eliminate you because she thinks you're a danger to our reign. I don't want to eliminate you, but she gave me no choice."

Tessa looked alarmed. "Eliminate me?!"

"I have to eliminate you," I said lowly, "I wasn't given much of a choice."

"You can't," Tessa said seriously, a hint of desperation in her voice. "You can't eliminate me. I still have to find Brontë's killer."

"I told you that I don't have a choice in this!" I exclaimed, slamming my hands down on the bed, causing Tessa to wince and squeeze her eyes shut. I stopped short, realizing my strength. It was stupid to assume that we would be able to have a normal conversation with everything that she had gone through. "I'm sorry—"

"You always have a choice, even if you don't realize it yet," Tessa remarked stubbornly, her eyes unwavering on her stare. Her breathing was slow and contained, with a hint of franticness from earlier. I felt bad once more as I heard her words.

"I'm sorry, Tess, but I have to eliminate you. What else can I do?" I asked her desperately.

"Eliminate me then." She said sternly. "But I won't leave without a fight. I'm here to find Brontë's killer and avenge her."

"It's not like I could eliminate you but also let you stay at the palace," I explained. "I'd love to, but I can't."

Tessa narrowed her eyes on me. "Why don't you take a chance on this and do what you want for once. I know that I can't change my elimination but it's up to you what happens to me next."

I thought about her words with a tight chest. Remembering what Odelia said would happen to Tessa after her elimination helped me find my answer. "Fine. You can stay at the palace, but it won't be easy. My mother will be mad and there will be all sorts of rumors flying left and right. You're the girl who survived a murder attempt. People will be suspicious about you," I told her cautiously. "So why do you want to stay at the palace in the first place?"

"I told you. I want to find Brontë's murderer." She said bluntly

"Why do you want to do that?" I asked, a little confused.

She sighed. "Do you remember that night with Winnie, Warren, Marga, and the others?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you remember the story I told about my father?" She asked. I nodded again.

She took a deep breath and brushed a tress of hair behind her ear. "Nearing the end of my junior year, my dad was driving me home from a high school party since I was really drunk. He was the only one who could drive me because my best friend Logan was out of town visiting his sister after he'd just became an uncle, and my brother Bellamy had the stomach flu so he was stuck at home. It was close to midnight and in the middle of a storm, I thought I saw something, something I couldn't really explain...I didn't know exactly what it was, but I definitely thought it was there, because I was so drunk. I called out to my dad, thinking that we were about to run into it, and he freaked out at my yell and ended up swerving and running straight into a tree on the side of the road. His side hit the tree trunk straight on, and while my head hit the dashboard, splitting my temple and giving me a concussion. My dad hit the tree and the wheel with broken glass and a greater force. By the time the medics showed up, my dad and I were both unconscious, and the medics first took me out, then my dad and the we were both emitted into the hospital. My dad, Lorenzo, was diagnosed with short-term memory damage while I just couldn't do much school work for a month."

"I'm sorry, Tessa," I said with sympathy.

She looked back at me. "I thought I saw something that night in the middle of the road that caused me to yell out and that was the reason my dad swerved out of the road and hit that tree. I spent the next two years after that looking for some supernatural being that was in the road. I grew obsessed with proving that my father's state was not my fault. I was delirious, crazy. Until I broke down and went home to my family. They helped me recover and heal from the accident. They saved me from that hell I was in."

"But what does this have to do with Brontë?" I asked gently, reached for her hand to hold.

"I need to redeem myself by avenging Brontë," she said softly. "I may not have been able to find what I thought was the cause of my father's death, but I can find Brontë's killer and I will make him pay for what he did to her."

I held her hand tightly. "Then I will help you," I promised. "We will do this together so no one has to be alone again."

With that, Tessa smiled and rested her head on my shoulder. Our hands were intertwined as we both leaned back and relaxed. Accepting the future we were about to enter.

"Thank you."

* * *

 **Hello everyone! Thank you for sticking with this story! I hope you're enjoying it so far and I promise that things will eventually get happier in this story. In the meantime, please read, review, and tell me what you think. Thanks!**


	18. Chapter Eighteen

The Fairest of Them All

Life can be the sunshine,

On peaceful days with bright blue skies,

Or life can be the raindrops,

That fall like tears squeezed from your eyes,

Life can teach hard lessons,

But you'll be wiser once you know,

That even roses need both sunshine,

And even a touch of rain to grow.

\- e.h

 **Lochlen Illéa**

The Charisma and Social Test was often one of the most fearful tests for the Selected. It was the trial that tested the Selected on their ability to socialize, entertain, and charm their way into winning this competition. It took place within two parts, both equally important and equally deadly. Today would be their first day facing the people of Illéa — who, for one of them, would be their future subjects.

As always, three Selected would be eliminated after the competition. The first two Selected would be eliminated by the people voting after they each completed a one minute interview with _The Report_ host Greyson Sellis. Afterwards, the two Selected voted out would be eliminated and would leave the palace before the clock struck midnight. The only requirement to continue on in the competition was that they be more charming that just two other girls. Then the remaining Selected would be attending a ball hosted by the noble families of Illéa. There, the final Selected would be eliminated in a vote by all a hundred and forty two noble families.

It was a tedious and painful task, but at least no one would die in this one.

Instead, the Selected were dressed in an assemblage of designer dresses, gowns, jewelry, and makeup — whether they wanted to wear the look or not. Currently, they were doing last minute checks before _The Report_ began. Today was all about impressions. Earning the liking of the people of Illéa and the noble families. It was days like these that would determine who made the cut for the Elite or not. Now, since the Selection was down to the halfway mark, there being eighteen Selected left, the competition was getting tougher. Everyone, including myself, had to be ready for whatever Greyson Sellis would throw at us today.

Lillian looked to be the most underdressed of the Selected, and couldn't help but look awkward in her flowery skirt and blouse against the silks and gowns of the other Selected. She looked beautiful still, and I suspected that her friendliness would compensate for any nervousness on camera. Meanwhile, Georgiana looked darkly on, dressed in a bevy of dark green velvet wrapped tightly around her bodice. Her gown clinged to the sides of her body with a high slit that displayed the sharp contrast between her pale skin to the dark green gown. It matched the sharp look in her deep set eyes. She wasn't the tallest out of the group of Selected — that title went to Marga — but was surely the most brooding. She had mostly stayed to herself during the Selection so far, though she had passed Duchess Odelia's entrance exam due to her wealth and family connections. Perhaps Odelia liked her quietness and obedience — for a lack of a better word.

Looking around, I caught the eye of Allegra, who was standing to the side adjusting her gown. Allegra was one of the tallest Selected, thus she wore a gown that emphasized her mile-long legs. The sheath gown, dark and black with silvery embellishments sewn in beautifully, clung to her body like a second skin. It had a deep v-neck that fell just above her belly button, her chest covered barely by two strips of fabric, with the gown held by two thin straps on her shoulders. She didn't look happy with the gown, attempting to shift the strips of fabric to cover her chest more. Looking away from me after a glance, she struggled to keep the thin straps of her gown on her shoulders while stepping into a pair of five inch heels that kept her gown from trailing behind her. Sighing melodramatically, she took a tentative step forward in the black heels which looked undoubtedly painful. Meeting my eyes once more, she walked over to me.

"Kill me now." She groaned, resting a hand on shoulder to steady herself. Now she stood about an inch taller than me so I had to look up at her. She was the same height as my mother in heels. "I swear, if I don't get to take these heels off right after the interviews I will eliminate myself."

I laughed gently. We had become good friends over the past few weeks, having gone on two dates together since our fateful first one at the beach. Allegra was nice, a little secretive, but who could blame her considering our families' histories together. "Don't eliminate yourself so soon, but there's a ball hosted after this that you will have to attend if you survive this first task," I told her with a sympathetic smile.

Allegra groaned again. "And I thought the pain of falling off Ajax while riding was hard," she muttered mostly to herself, playing with her french-braided hair that fell over her dark shoulder in perfectly braided strands.

Ajax was her horse from back home in Calgary. She was an equestrian, and a damn good one as far as her critics were concerned. I didn't know much about horses myself, but Allegra promised to teach me a lesson someday.

Smiling gently, I felt calmer now that I had someone by my side. The Selected would be interviewing first, all given one minute interviews. Then he Candidates would be interviewing second — Caspian, me, and lastly Warren. Afterwards would be the first eliminations and the ball. It was all going to happen so fast and I just needed someone to help slow things down.

"Selected to backstage! I repeat, Selected to backstage! Selected, you're on in ten!" The floor manager called, his voice booming across the studios.

This summoned a flurry of panicked voices and yells from across the studio floor. Selected ladies hurriedly fixing their luxurious gowns and makeup, or asking someone to fix the clip on their jeweled necklace. I watched as Carnegie rushed past me in her beautiful hand-painted silk gown with barely a glance towards me while holding a giant makeup kit. Reaching a group of other Selected, they cheered when they saw her.

"I found it!" Carnegie cheered triumphantly, handing the kit to Juliette, who was facing Lacey with a small makeup brush in hand.

"Oh thank you so much, Carnie," Lacey exclaimed breathlessly. "What would I do without you?"

"You'd be stuck with me probably," Nymaria joked with a grin and a wink. The girls laughed and turned their attention back to Juliette, who was opening the makeup kit and dipping an eyeliner stick into a small bowl of black liquid.

"Really you should be thanking Juliette here," Carnegie said with a smile while leaning back against the vanity where Addison and Titania were also resting against with equally happy smiles on their faces. "I can't do my own makeup to save my life. Nevermind someone else's."

Juliette grinned, not breaking her eyes away from her focus on Lacey's eyelashes. "Thanks darling, you're too sweet on me. I'm just happy to help out."

"Seriously, you are super talented, Juliette!" Titania exclaimed, grinning and straightening the metallic skirt of her grey sequined dress that fell just above her knees.

Juliette laughed and blushed a little, drawing her hand back from Lacey's makeup. "You are all too nice to me, but thank you."

"Selected to Studio Floor One! Five minutes until live!" The floor manager yelled across the room once more.

"That's us!" Addison yelled over the now-roaring crowds that were surging through the building. "We better get going!"

"Good idea," Lacey remarked, brushing a brown curl out of her face while looking in a vanity mirror at her finished makeup. "We don't want to be late for our big closeup."

All the girls nodded and checked themselves in nearby mirrors before joining the group of Selected making their way downstairs to the television studio. My eyes followed Carnegie as she and her group left, all of them giggling and laughing with each other as they walked away. She looked particularly pretty with her softly curled blonde hair, beautiful light green eyes, and in her silk gown that looked perfect on her...

"Stop staring at her, you look like you're pining," Allegra joked, hitting my hip with her own, breaking my attention.

" _I am not_."

"Oh yes you are." She grinned. "It looks like someone has a crush."

I blew air through my lips, not quite sure how to answer. "I don't know," I eventually said.

"It's alright, you have plenty of time to finally realize your _undying_ love for her." Allegra rolled her brown eyes, adjusting the tiny straps on her gown once more. "Until then, we better get backstage so you aren't late for your interview."

I nodded in agreement and walked towards the door with Allegra by my side. She had to hold onto my shoulder while walking down the staircase so she wouldn't fall in her gown and five inch high heels. I laughed at her but she shut me up with a quick flash of a glare. Taking our time, we finally made it to the first floor. The rest of the Selected were seated on individual copper bar stools with each of their names scrawled onto the backs.

Allegra groaned and grabbed my shoulder again, looking down at me. "See you later bud, I've got people to _charm_."

"Bye." I waved dumbly after her as she joined the line of Selected that was beginning to form.

The backstage staff ushered the Selected out of their seats as they brought the copper chairs out onto the stage. The Selected were rushed into lines by Province, given instructions on how to walk out and talk their seats. Like earlier with Carnegie and her friends, most of the Selected were doing their final makeup and dress checks. I stayed mostly to myself, ready to settle in and watch the show from a backstage screen like everyone else.

And so it began.

On the glimmering screen, the Illéan national emblem was pictured. A golden olive wreath around a golden crown in the centre. A sight I've seen since birth. As the emblem faded away, the dark stage of _The Report_ appeared. For a split second, I could hear the restlessness of the audience and the high energy of everyone in all of Angeles as the world seemed quiet — if only for a bare second. In a blinding flash of light, the host Greyson Serris strode onto the stage with a smile as bright as the stage lights above him. He was met with roaring applause and cheers from the audience of about three hundred people. Dressed in a pitch black suit with a shiny red tie, Greyson began his serenade.

"Hello Illéa! How are you doing tonight?" He called to the crowd and cameras with an ever-charmingly voice. Met with more applause and cheers, he got his answer and continued. "Today is an extremely special day — we will be having our first interviews with the Selected and afterwards, you at home can vote on your favorite Selected. Who you want to win and who you want to eliminate. And for this one day only — your vote will be taken into account and Illéa will get to vote on the Selected that they want to eliminate!"

The cheers grew louder like drums pounding in my ears.

Axel, my father, warned of this. Giving people the slightest slice of power would make them greedy and they would lap it up like dehydrated dogs on a hot day. But a simple vote in a pageant like the Selection would be controllable. If the Illéan people voted off a favorite of the ruling family, all it took was a slight number change and that lady was safe. After all, the Illéan people didn't like Lady Mirabelle during her first interview all that much. Apparently, she was too snooty for Illéa's liking. But in the end, everything was rigged and no one from the inside was willing to take the steps to change that.

"And, now let's welcome the lovely Selected ladies of Illéa!"

One by one, the Selected walked onto the stage in their gowns and glory. The Angeles native Georgiana walked out first, leading the pack with a stern, strong look on her face. The audience, mostly Angeles citizens, cheered for their Selected lady but Georgiana paid them no mind. Still, the crowd loved it. Next came out Juliette Rosales of Baffin, the beautiful fashion designer, which reminded me of how many Selected had left in the competition since her spot skipped over two Provinces. The Selected continued to file out until they were all seated in their respected chairs, most beaming at the cameras.

"Welcome to _The Report_ , ladies." Greyson welcomed with his trademark smile. "How are you feeling tonight?"

The Selected answered with an assortment of laughs, smiles, ruffles of dresses, and many 'good, thanks for asking'.

"Well, today we're going to start with a few questions, but these won't be your average questions." Greyson winked with a sparkles in his eyes, waving offstage for the prop to be brought onstage, rolling in on a cart for the cameras to focus on. "Each of you will be picking your own question from this bowl of eighteen different questions. You will all have one minute to answer and you will be voted by the people based on your answers. This could determine if you stay or leave, so let's get some good answers!"

Many of the Selected smile nervously at the cameras, giving small waves to the audience.

"Let's start with you, Lady Georgiana of Angeles," Greyson said, picking up the crystal bowl from the cart and handing it to a rigid-looking Georgiana who looked awfully uncomfortable on stage with all the lights on her.

"Sure," she said with a tightly lipped smile as she reached a nimble hand into the crystal bowl and picked out a folded envelope of white paper and handed it to Greyson.

"Let's see then!" He said, turning to the cameras as he opened the cream-colored envelope. "Your question, Lady Georgiana, is: What is a woman's greatest asset?"

Georgiana raised in a eyebrow and crossed a leg over her knee. She looked nonchalant and cool with the question. But her eyes were filled with thought. "The fact, Greyson, that I am a woman and people expect less of me — so then I can screw them from behind and they'll never know what hit 'em."

I couldn't help the laugh that slipped out at her answer. It seemed that the audience found her answer funny as well.

Georgiana gave a tight smile in the slightest at her own answer and the crowd's reaction. Though she didn't seem quite all into it. But I looked it over as intimidation from the cameras and lights shining on her.

"Now that's a kicker." Greyson laughed, clutching his stomach. "Thank you for your answer, Lady Georgiana, now let's go to the next question!"

Next up was Juliette, who grinned widely as she picked out her question and handed the card to Greyson to read.

"Thank you Lady Juliette," he said, opening the card. "What accomplishment are you most proud of from the past year and why?"

Juliette smiled wide, wasting no time to find her answer. "My proudest accomplishment from the past year has to be being one of the head designers for Eleanor Waithe's fall/winter collection because it was the first time I got to be one of the head designers, and one of my gowns for the collection was considered the "centrepiece" of the collection, and was featured and praised in many major fashion editorials. It was an incredible leadership opportunity and it was amazing working with so many incredible designers." She said enthusiastically.

Once again, Greyson thanked her for her answer and allowed the crowd time to beam and clap for the charmingly beautiful girl who they seemed to love quite a bit. After Juliette, there was Lady Kazue of Bonita, who gave a short, easy answer to her question. Talking about what genre a movie based on her life would be. She said a comedy but apparently the comedy part didn't follow through with the audience.

"Lady Allegra, what is one thing you love about your country?"

On the inside, I cringed. Allegra, as everyone in the nation knew, did not have a good history with her country and its leading government.

On stage, the lady in question sucked up a breath and forced a smile that made her look somewhat cheery and happy on stage. "My country...where to begin? " Allegra trailed off, a hint of sarcasm coated her words. "There are so many things in this country to experience...the Caste System, the government, the citizens...but one thing that I love the most?" She gave an almost humorous look at the nearest camera focusing on her face. "Well, the food isn't bad."

After Allegra's answer, no one could tell if they wanted to laugh or grimace. But we awaited for Lady Titania to lighten the mood with her angelic, gentle laugh and personality. The gift was given with Titania's answer to her question. Who knows you best? With a look into her family life and a share couple of laughs, no one could not smile at her. After her was Marga, who was already a crowd favorite.

"Lady Margarita, if you could change one problem in the world, what would it be and why?"

I smiled, that was a perfect question for her.

Marga thought so as well and beamed as her question was read. Taking a deep breath, she prepared her answer. "The world is faced with numerous problems. Hunger, war, disease, climate change, discrimination. I'm sure that everyone here would agree that there are a lot of problems in our world. As the daughter of a diplomat and a diplomat in training myself, my father has always made it important that I should be very aware of our world's major problems." She paused a took another deep breath, smiling at the audience's astounding applause. "I can't single out of these because they all affect the world in an equal and negative manner. We can't instantly make these problems disappear. However, I see that the one problem in the world that I believe we could really change is ourselves. In all of us is an ignorance and pride that makes it difficult for us to take action against any of these major problems. Ignorance will leave us helpless and amoral in the face of these problems. If we can change our perspectives on these issues to a supportive and dynamic attitude of promoting health, respect, peace, and global unity against climate change, then I believe that changing this problem within ourselves will definitely help in changing these major world problems."

With her last word, everyone in the room was on their feet with booming applause. Cheers and cries of joy filled the room. The standing ovation only ended after a few minutes when Greyson insisted for the crowd to calm down and let them continue. But it was continued with cheers of "Margarita! Margarita? Margarita!" I couldn't help but join in with the cheers myself and laughing with joy the whole time.

After about five minutes, the applause scattered out and we faded back into the pattern. It was Lady Gayle next. Gayle wore a starkly olive green dress, which appeared so tight that it hurt looking. She probably could barely move her legs to walk in that tight, clingy skirt, and it was no help thinking about the pair of undoubtably high heels she wore to support herself off the ground. The olive green skirt of the dress shifted over the floor of the stage, not quite touching the ground. But if Gayle bent her knees in the slightest she looked about to combust out of the tight assemble. She didn't look happy at all. But she gave a simple answer to her question: do you believe in luck? _No_ , she said, _rewards are earned through hard work and grit_.

Then there was Nymaria, who gave her answer to the question: Where do you see yourself fifteen years from now? Nymaria said she would see herself owning her own Travel TV Show, releasing an episode every Thursday. Why Thursday? Because it was the day she got called and told that she got the job at Cultural. In fifteen years, She'd have done a boat adventure with her twin brother all around Illéa and then have him teach the possible one or even two children she would have. After she makes sure to live a life of adventure she would hope to meet and relax down with her husband on a nice villa near the beach, going skiing every other weekend. Or who knows, she said, she might even be living in a castle, with the man she loved and be the next Queen of Illéa. Nymaria finished with a cheeky wink and a wave to the cameras as she sat down.

Aubrey gave another short, sweet answer to her question. How would you describe your own personality? With describing her love of helping and caring for little kids and doing charity work. While Baroness Temperance, one of the few Ones left in the competition, went off on a wild story about flashing some poor servant girl in the hallway who she ended up making out with in a broom closet ten minutes later. Though, according to her telling, she was extremely drunk and it was before the Selection started. So she didn't break any rules and perfectly described her best experience at the palace so far.

"Who is the most influential person in your life?" Greyson asked Tessa.

Much to the dismay of the Illéa and the Valencian families, Tessa remained in the competition. An agreement had been made that she would be eliminated during the Elite cut. Which was quite a while from our current position. But she enjoyed staying, though wouldn't reveal what agreement she made with Caspian that allowed her to stay. I was sure the question was gnawing up Warren from the inside out.

"Oh Greyson, forgive me, but I think I have to go with my bed." Tessa laughed.

"Your bed? But that isn't a real person!" Greyson argued playfully.

Tessa mock gasped. "I will have you know that we have spent a great many nights together and my bed has talked me out of doing some pretty stupid stuff. I find it offensive that you, of all people, cannot recognize our relationship! Discrimination, I say!"

Greyson broke character and laughed. "Yes, you're right, I apologize Lady Tessa!"

Tessa sat back down in her chair in a humpf, a mature look on her face. "Thank you, Greyson, onto the next question."

Greyson winked at the audience and called the name that was now up.

Finally it was Lady Lillian up next, who was trembling and looking exceptionally nervous for talking to the camera. A few people whom took pity on her for her nervousness encouraged her on and cheered her name until the rest of the audience was doing the same. She gave a small smile at the audience and picked out a card from the ever-decreasing cards in the glass bowl.

"What are the three most important traits you think a Queen should possess?" Greyson asked, reading off the card.

Lillian paused, taking a couple moments to think about the question. The audience was silent while they awaited her answer. After the few moments, she broke her thoughtful stare and looked back at the cameras with a soft smile. "I think that the three most important traits a Queen should possess should be, first, compassion; dedication, towards the betterment of the country and the people; and, last, integrity."

Greyson immediately rushed in, leaving almost no time for applause. "Thank you Lady Lillian! Next question, Lady Lacey of Lakedon!"

The five more questions after that flew forward. For Lacey, if you become Queen, what will be your greatest contribution to the nation? Haneul, if you won a million dollars in the lottery, what would you spend the winnings on? Lena, what do you like most about yourself. Which she answered with a wink and a cheeky "what isn't there to like?" And then there was Lydia and Addison, who had pretty basic questions that didn't suit them well or do them justice. But they didn't stand out all that much. Finally, after them, we had gotten to the last two questions and then it was the Candidates' interviews.

"Lady Elowen—"

"Dad, please, call me Winnie."

Bursts of laughter came from the audience. Greyson grinned down at his daughter as he held her question in his hands. The resemblance between the father and daughter was obvious on stage and the pair were happy to play it up.

"Winnie, my darling daughter, what is _your_ edge over the other Selected competitors?"

"Thank you for that question, dearest father," Winnie began with a sweet, innocent look on her face. When she was younger, she was known throughout the country as the famous Illéa's Angel. The former child model retained the inncoent look from her childhood, with her golden blonde hair that framed her angelic face and beautiful green eyes. Anyone who didn't know her personally would never have guessed of the deviousness beneath that mask. "My answer would have to be, for one, a really good skin care regime."

Greyson chuckled. "Actually—"

"Oh! You mean, like, something background-wise?' Winnie laughed gently. "Mostly blackmail."

The audience laughed at her answer, thinking it was a joke. But knowing Winnie as I did, I wasn't sure if she was really joking or not. I was inclined to think the latter. She never joked about blackmail.

"Thank you Winnie for your wonderful answer." Greyson laughed and hugged his daughter before she headed back to her seat. "Last but not least, please welcome Lady Carnegie of Zuni!"

The light-haired girl stepped forward off her seat with graceful movements and I felt my heart skip a beat while watching her. Lifting a hand, she took the last white card out of the glass bowl and handed the card to Greyson. I couldn't break away from looking at her and didn't bother looking at Greyson opening and reading the card.

"Lady Carnegie, what constitutes true beauty?"

A smile broke out on Carnegie's face as she discovered her answer. I felt a soaring feeling in my chest as I watched her smile and brush down the silky dress she wore. Tucking a tress of light blonde hair behind her ear, she smiled and began her answer.

"I believe that compassion and kindness are so often the solution to life. But we tend to forget that kindness is free and that all it can take is a smile to a person on the street which makes their day. I believe that true beauty is the light in your soul. The knowledge that you're never alone. True beauty is about who you are as a human being, your principles, your moral compass. True beauty is loving yourself with confidence and respect, because you are the most beautiful person in the world." Carnegie finished her soft, kind words.

I could only think one thought.

 _This girl is the most beautiful, incredible person in the world_.

I beamed at her as she joined her fellow Selected in walking off the stage, unable to hear Greyson's final words. But it was about myself and the other Candidates. The show was taking a quick break to reset for the Candidates. The Selected were talking with each other and murmuring about eliminations. I caught the eye of Allegra, who rolled her eyes at the other girls and walked over to me.

"Goddamn I killed that."

"Yes, yes you did." I laughed, letting her rest herself against my shoulder.

"Candidates to backstage! I repeat, Candidates to backstage! First Candidate, you're on in five!" The floor manager called, his voice booming across the studios.

Lena, who was sitting alongside Winnie, caught my eye and grinned. She was an elaborate fire-red gown that flowed down her short frame in jewelled flames. While Winnie was wearing a shorter dark blue dress that reached her knees with a tulle skirt with an open back and a sheer bodice with floral embroidery. Her emerald eyes were focused intently on the stage, where Caspian was beginning to walk out to cheering applause.

"Now that _golden boy_ is out there, I'm gonna go sit down," Allegra murmured into my ear before letting go of my shoulder and taking a few tentative steps forward in her heels. After finding a good balance, she gaining more confidence and walked at a more regular pace. Noticing a water bottle in her path, I tried to yell out and warn her but I was too late. "FUCK!" Allegra yelled at the top of her voice as her heel slide by the water bottle and her ankle bended painfully, causing me to wince at the sight. She earned an array of shushes from the people around her but she shot them all dirty looks as she flicked off her heels and walked barefoot while limping without them to her chair besides Georgiana and Lillian.

Giving another bare wince at the memory, I turned my attention to the stage where Caspian and Greyson were talking.

"Now Caspian, do tell, how has the Selection been treating you?" Greyson Sellis asked with a wink. He wore a dark suit with a navy blue tie that brightened his ever-blue eyes, with his grey-streaked dark, chestnut hair combed to hide the receding hairline he was infamously ashamed of.

"Come on Greyson, please don't tell me the grey hairs are obvious!" Caspian exclaimed, lifting a hand to comb through his pure inky black hair, causing the audience to laugh. Akin to his usual looks, he wore a dark blue suit and a light blue-grey tie that hung loosely against his tall frame. His blue eyes sparkled with mirth as he joked with Greyson.

"Not as obvious as mine!" Greyson played along with the game, drawing a hand through his dark, chestnut hair that was beginning to turn grey.

"Oh Greyson, you get me everytime!" Caspian added, winking towards the audience.

"But really Caspian, you must have some secrets to tell," Greyson prodded in his playful manner. "Surely you have some juicy gossip for those at home?"

"Like the woman who I want to marry?" Caspian asked with a laugh.

Greyson chuckled. "Of course, we all have our favorites, don't we?"

I looked to the side where the Selected sat together.

Winnie sat up straighter, tossing a sunny blonde curl over her shoulder while slinging one tulle-clad leg over the other. An expectant look in her demeaning emerald eyes.

Caspian laughed brightly. "We all share that right, Greyson. But for now we keep that to ourselves," he responded with a grin.

Greyson laughed again, retaining his charm while his eyes flickered over to his daughter backstage momentarily. "Thank you for joining us today, Caspian. I wish you best of luck in next few months."

"Thank you as well, Greyson, it's wonderful as always," Caspian said with a wink.

The pair shook hands and exchanged a short hug before ending the interview. Caspian waved to the roaring crowd as he walked off. The people of Illéa loved the Valencias, especially Caspian. They were the people's leaders. Chosen by the people, for the people. My heart pounded in my chest knowing that I was next up for the interview, which was my first as the Crown Prince. A position that I probably wouldn't hold for much longer, considering the crowd's reaction to their beloved Lord Caspian. I stood watching from the edge of the wings, awaiting Greyson's invitation to enter the stage.

"Another round of applause for Lord Caspian Valencia, ladies and gentlemen!" Greyson cheered, standing up from his red upholstered chair. "And please welcome Prince Lochlen Illéa to the stage!"

A resurgence of cheers came from the crowd. Not as many as for Caspian. It was common knowledge that the people of Illéa didn't like their ruling family. My family counted on me to change their minds. I took a shaky deep breath and too the first step. The cheers from the audience rose louder than the pounding in my heart. I couldn't hear my own footsteps or the words flowing out of Greyson's mouth. Reciting a mantra, I told myself not to be scared.

 _You are surrounded by friends._

 _You are surrounded by friends._

 _You are surrounded by friends._

 _You are surrounded by friends_ — _and enemies who want you gone._

"Good afternoon Greyson, it's good to see you."

* * *

The interview didn't go as bad as I expected. Of course, I thought the worst of everything and had my brother by my side to reassure me that it wasn't as bad as I made it out to be.

I sighed into my hands, then dropping them down and looking at Octavian."I shouldn't have even been out there. I'm not good enough for this."

My twin brother shook his head and brushed a hand through his cropped hair that had way too much hair gel and product. "You need to stop beating yourself up about that. You were perfectly fine out there," he argued back.

"Why do you keep saying that?" I asked him with a contorted face. "I must've sounded like a stone. Please remind me why you couldn't be the one to do this? You're good at interviews and charming people. Unlike me, you can actually talk to girls. No wonder they like you so much."

Octavian stared at me. "You are so goddamned oblivious." His eyes were a steely dark brown. "You complain about how you're never good enough for anything then blame everything on me when things don't go your way and I try to help out. And I'm not sure if you've realized this yet, but I have a life other than 'charming' people and talking to girls. You don't know if I even like g—"

"Gentlemen, I'm starting to get tired of all this complaining." Lena stood from her armchair with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face, still dressed in her intimidatingly fiery gown. "Y'all need to get a life other than yelling at each other."

Octavian and I stubbornly didn't answer her, arms crossed and looking away from each other.

"I swear to god that this is the last time I'm playing mother," Lena muttered under her breath as she walked towards both of us and grabbed our arms. "Now look. There's a party going on right now a floor beneath us and I'm not missing it because the two of you can't stand each other for one night. So, for the sake of everyone else, get your _mierda_ together and pretend that you love each other for the love of all things good in this world."

" _Fine_ ," Octavian responded curtly. "But that doesn't mean that I have to talk to _him_ at any point tonight."

"I'm right here!" I called angrily from his side. "Don't talk about me like I'm not even here right in front of me."

"I swear, I don't care if you two never talk to each other again — just don't ruin this night for everyone else because the two identical twin Princes are upset with each other!" Lena exclaimed, exasperated beyond belief. "And I just want to go to this stupid party and get this over with. So put up with each other for three more hours then one of you can drop dead for all I care!"

We complied with her wishes, but that didn't mean either of us were happy with the turnout. Grudgingly, we grabbed our blazers and pulled them over our shoulders. Matching grey blazers. The only difference between our suits were our ties. I had a dark blue tie with tiny white polka dots and Octavian's tie was maroon red. Marching down marble staircases, Lena staying in the middle, with matching scowls on our faces. Sounds of classical music, the soft clinking of glasses, and gentle conversations were getting louder. I sighed, remembering all these balls I had been to in the past.

"Alright boys, I'm gonna let you two go now but I need you both to promise me you won't kill each other," Lena warned. She was gripping the shoulder cuffs of both of our jackets, but standing several inches shorter than us, it really made no difference. Without her heels, she could barely touch our shoulders.

" _Promise_ ," both of us grumbled.

With a less than satisfied sigh, Lena let us go. Stumbling forward, we shot each other one last look before heading off in separate directions. Octavian went off to the corner with food and drinks while I headed out into the bulk of the party. If I was lucky, maybe I'd stumble upon Allegra or Carnegie. I had only gotten a few meters in when the clinking of a glass hushed the crowd.

"Attention, everyone, please," Cécile called into her microphone. "First of all, we would like to congratulate our winners of the first part of the third task. Lady Margarita Atlas of Clermont, Lady Juliette Rosales of Baffin, and finally Lady Carnegie Newark of Zuni! And we thank Lady Gayle Weaver of Columbia for her participation in the Selection and for accepting her elimination with such grace and beauty."

 _Lies_. As far as I heard, she tried to punch the security guard that had to drag her out of the palace.

"To the noble Lords and Ladies at the ball tonight, please do not forget to submit your own vote on behalf of your families on the final two eliminations tonight." She instructed. "Thank you for your attention and I wish you all a wonderful night."

Polite applause filled the room as Cécile stepped off the stage. She was doing her job well as far as anyone could tell. But she couldn't have been much worse than the Instructor last Selection. According to the gossip, he was the worst they ever had.

Listening to myself think, I cringed. Sure I was tired and wasn't in the mood to be attending a party, but I was beginning to sound like my annoying, gossipy brother. _Ugh_ , I needed something to drink.

I trudged through the room filled with noble Lords and Ladies of every station. Barons, Baronesses, Counts, Countesses, Dukes, Duchesses, and so forth. I walked past Lillian, who had changed into a gorgeous green gown that Octavian was gushing over while talking to her. Clearly, I didn't stay there long. I passed by Winnie, who was dancing and laughing with Caspian. Not allowing him to dance with anyone else but her, as it seemed. I stopped to greet a few people, including Cashel Conwyn, a favorite of my brother's, who was far nicer than my brother himself. He was looking for his elderly father, who had just returned from France, whom I just happened to find walking and talking with Tessa.

"Your last name is Valois? Why, that's the surname of the French Royal family that ruled the land from the 1300s to the late 1500s!" George Conwyn exclaimed, pounding his silver cane on the ground.

Tessa laughed and caught my eye, winking. "Yes, so I've been told, and I do have French family myself. I've never met them but I'd surely love to. Perhaps I've got a distant Royal Valois ancestor."

" _Tre bien_!" George pounded his silver cane on the marble floor again. "You should!"

"Does your father know what those words mean?" I whispered to the Conwyn boy next to me.

"No. No he doesn't. But we let him pretend he does" Cash laughed and grinned at his father. "For a man obsessed with the French, he barely knows any of the language."

"Do you have any French blood at all?"

Cash shook his head and laughed again. "Not a drop, I'm afraid. We're Irish all the way down the line."

"Pity." I grinned. "Isn't there a saying that the French have more fun, or something like that?"

"It's blonds have more fun." He corrected, touching his own light hair. "Which is true because I'm having the time of my life right now."

"Yes, because you're here with me instead of having fun. Now why aren't you dancing with someone?"

He rolled his eyes. "I've only got one girl in my mind — and she's one of your many girlfriends. You cheating whore. She deserved better than her."

I patted him on the back. "Go get her buddy, I'm a horrible boyfriend anyways. I give you full permission to court her, but I can't say the same for her."

Cash grinned. "I'm a real charmer."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You always are. Go get 'em buddy."

* * *

 **Please forgive me for the messiness in this chapter, it was really late when I finished it lol. But I hope you otherwise enjoyed the chapter and please review telling me what you thought! Also, I want to say hello to two new readers** OdeliaLovesBooks **(I always loved the name since my friend had it so I gave the now-Odelia the name lol) and** kimlilyha **! Thank you for reading and reviewing and I hope you liked this chapter!**


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Morning Light

I was the type of person,

That held onto things too tight,

Unable to release my grip,

When it no longer felt right,

And although it gave me blisters,

And my fingers would all ache,

I always thought that holding on,

Was worth the pain it takes,

I used to think in losing things,

I'd lose a part of me too,

That slowly I'd become someone,

My heart no longer knew,

Then one day something happened,

I dropped what I once held dear,

But my soul became much lighter,

Instead of filled with fear,

And it taught my heart some things,

Aren't meant to last for long,

They arrive to teach you lessons,

And then continue on,

You don't have to cling to people,

Who no longer make you smile,

Or do something you've come to hate,

If it isn't worth your while,

That sometimes the thing you're fighting for,

Isn't worth the cost,

And not everything you ever love,

Is bound to be a loss.

\- e.h

 **Warren Schreave**

"Happy Birthday, little sis," I said with a lopsided grin. In my hands I held a boxed gift. I was never any good at wrapping presents and God forgive that I could ever correctly tie the red ribbon tied around the box. But I tried my best to make a presentable gift for my little sister. It was her fourteenth birthday afterall.

Gwen didn't respond right away. She was sitting alone on a sandy granite bench on the balcony of her bedroom. The blue curtains to her balcony were billowing in the wind of the warm day. It was the middle of September and the weather was wonderful as ever. There wasn't a cloud in the air on the perfectly clear, everblue sky. The air was sweet and scented with flowers from the blooming garden below the balcony. Sunbeams filled every room in the palace with brightness and light. The glass bowls filled with clear blue water and water lilies in her room glittered and sparkled against the bare walls in her suite.

"It's my fourteenth birthday, nothing important to get excited about." Gwen's tone was cool and deliberate.

I frowned at her words. "It's your _birthday_. That's enough to celebrate."

Once again, Gwen didn't respond. Instead she closed her eyes and let her head fall back to the sky. Light shone down on her face. Her dark blonde hair fluttered in the wind like loose silks. She wore a long blue skirt with a white crop top, as usual showing her long legs. She was relatively tall, almost as tall as our mother. Still several inches shorter than me. She'd gotten taller and older since the last time we talked. Perhaps we had all gotten older with all that happened in the past few months.

"I can't think of a single achievement or annuity I've earned through this birthday," she said lazily, unmoving from her stature. "Or perhaps, I'm incorrect," Gwen straightened herself and opened her dark brown eyes to gaze over the garden. "I almost forgot about my arranged marriage engagement," she drawled with heavy sarcasm coated on her words.

I sighed and walked out onto the balcony, forcing her to scoot over and taking a seat next to her on the sandy granite bench. "First of all, good use of vocabulary. And second, Gwen, you know I'm doing everything I can to stop this stupid marriage. But the Illéas and mother and father aren't willing to let the potential marriage go."

Gwen scoffed and threw her hands up to her hair, pulling it back over her shoulders. "The whole damn Valencia family hate the marriage idea. Why doesn't anyone listen to them?"

"Because stupid _politics_ , that's why." I grimaced, all while taking in the sun and leaning back against the smooth stone bench. "The 'damn' Valencia family hates the marriage because it gives our family a step up on them. They've had a connection with the English Royal family for hundreds of years because one of their damned Princesses married an old Valencian King right before the Revolution. Then when the English Princess and her daughter were executed during the Revolution, the English Royal family supported the remaining Valencian family in their bid for getting the throne back. So many people died in the Revolution that the two families only ever trusted each other. But now that connection is getting old and worn out, none of them are even considered related anymore. But by marrying you off to the Prince, our family gets power over the English Royal family."

"If you didn't know, you sound like a walking History textbook," Gwen grumbled. "But why would the Illéa family agree to that if it means we get more power over the English Royal family?"

"Because the English Royal family is royally fucked up." I told her, wrinkling my nose. "According to sources in England, the Crown Princess is a drug addict with an sex addiction who can't go a night without getting drunk and stoned."

"My future Sister-in-Law." Gwen looked completely disgusted. "But why the hell are mother and father agreeing to marry me into that fucked up family?"

"For starters, don't swear, you're only fourteen." Gwen shot me a glare. "And second, because, _apparently_ , the guy you're going to be marrying is perfectly fine and normal. No drugs, no alcohol, no nothing. Completely clean. And if what our parents are expected to happen happens, he will be crowned the next ruler of England instead of his drug addict sister. Which means that you, by marrying him, will become the next Queen of England. Which is exactly what mother and father want. Their children. The King and Queen of two different, respective, powerful countries." I finished, shaking my head. Finally I looked back at my sister.

The shock on Gwen's face was visible. "I—I could become Queen of England?"

"But is it worth the marriage?" I asked her with a tight look. "An arranged marriage that you don't want? For a power that you may or may not be given?"

A thoughtful look fell on her face. A few moments passed between us. The sun still shone bright and warm. The air smelled sweet with the scent of flowers. Bees buzzed around the flowers on the balcony, birds sang a whistling song as they soared through the sky, and gentle chatter of people in the gardens. Somewhere below our balcony, a violin played a sweet tune of the seasons. Warmth seeped into my bones as I allowed myself to relax in the sun. It was truly a beautiful day.

"No."

Gwen's voice broke the silence between us.

"I don't want to marry him. I don't care about the power or crown or anything I might get in return. I want to marry someone I love and someone who I choose."

I grinned at her. "That's the sister that I know and love."

She tried to hide the smile on her face by lowering her head and bumping her shoulder against my own. But it only turned into a game of who could hit the other the hardest. We kicked and hit each other, not caring about the competitive grins on our faces and the loud laughs. We didn't hurt each enough to leave a mark, only strong but easy kicks and hits. Gwen squealed one time that I accidentally stepped on her toes, and since she was wearing a pair of blue high heeled sandals, the step must've hurt more. I stopped and apologized profusely, to which she only laughed and took off her sandal to rub her toe.

"Again, I'm really sorry—"

"Stop apologizing, Ren!" Gwen laughed. "It's not very becoming—"

 _Slam_.

The door to Gwen's room swung and slammed open. We shot around in our seats to see who had loudly entered her room.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY GWEN!" The voice of Lillian Edgar cheered with excitement. "WE ARE GOING TO HAVE SO MUCH FUN—oh...oh...I'm so, so sorry."

Gwen cracked up again and laughed loudly while I grinned at the newest member to our group compadres. "Welcome," I gesture to spot next to me on the bench. "Make yourself comfortable. This is a very special birthday we're celebrating."

"Oh...uh...thanks," Lilly said awkwardly, walking towards us, taking the seat next to me. "It's just, pardon me saying this, but you seem not really like yourself."

I shook my head and grinned. "It's Gwen's birthday. We drop the formalities and go with whatever happens."

Gwen stopped laughing and looked up at me with a criticizing look on her face. "Ok, even hearing that as your sister, it sounds really strange. Are you okay in there?"

"To be honest, I probably drank too much last night and I took a lot of advil and coffee this morning so I'm a little buzzed but relieved okay."

"Alright bud." Gwen awkwardly patted my shoulder. "Should we start with presents? Both of you better have gotten me presents or you're automatically disinvited from this party."

Lilly and I laughed, knowing Gwen's expectations.

"Don't worry, I brought a present." Lilly smiled and took out a rather small box that she carried in the pockets of her black high-waisted shorts.

"I brought one as well," I said, gesturing to the big blue and red box at my feet.

Gwen observed both presents with a finger at her chin in feigning thoughtfulness. "Alright, I've decided that I want to open the bigger present first. No offence, Lilly."

She laughed and tucked a tress of chocolate brown hair behind her ear. "None taken. I like the big presents too."

" _I win_." I grinned at Lilly as she rolled her eyes at me and laughed a little. Picking up the present, I carefully handed the box to Gwen, who quickly grabbed the box and weighed it for an image of the gift inside.

Wasting no time after that, Gwen dug her long nails into the wrapping paper and tore off a layer of the thin blue paper. She untied the red satin ribbon and threw it to the side along with the rest of the wrapping paper, revealing the plain cardboard box underneath all the glamor. Clearly excited, she ripped off the tape that held the box closed with one action and ripped the rest of the box open. Gwen was probably the funniest person I had ever watched open presents because of her eagerness and love of free gifts. I watched in patience to see her reaction to my present. Finally opening the box, the impatient Gwen looked inside.

" _Books_ ," she said glumly. "The same as every year."

"But you like books!" I argued.

"No, Warren, _you_ like books. I tolerate them."

"Oh, just give them a chance." I shot back. "These are very good books, I'll have you know."

" _Pride and Prejudice_." Gwen took the book out of the box and raised an eyebrow. "I have four copies of the exact same book."

"There are more books in there!"

Gwen let out a 'humph' and mulled over the different books. " _War and Peace_ — I've got three copies of that now. _The Divine Comedy_ , wow I think I only have two copies of that now. _To Kill A Mockingbird_ — oh come on Ren, you can do better than that? Where's the trashy teen fiction? Where's the _Fifty Shades of Grey_? You're disappointing me, brother."

"Shut up. You love those books" I told her as I pulled her into a big hug, causing her to yell out as she fell back into arms.

Gwen sighed and patted my arms that were wrapped around her. "I do. I really do."

"Open my present next!" Lilly laughed. "I can't promise it's as good as Warren's present but it'll have to do."

Gwen beamed at her and pushed my arms off her. "Gimmie. _Please_."

Lilly grinned and handed her the small teal box.

She took the box in her hands and carefully unwrapped the blue ribbon from the box and slipped off the lid. Gwen gasped as she saw the contents of the small box.

"Oh my gosh, thank you so much!" She stood up and dashed over to Lilly and grabbed her into a hug.

"I'm glad you like it," Lilly said with a smile, hugging her back. "Do you want me to put it on you?"

Gwen nodded and handed Lilly back the box. I watched closely as my little sister lifted up her dark blonde hair as Lilly slipped out a silver necklace from the small blue box. She stood up to her full height, only a few inches taller than my sister, and draped the necklace over Gwen's neck. Once the necklace settled just below her collarbones, she latched the silver chain and stepped back.

"You see, Ren, this is how you give a proper present."

* * *

My breath was hot as I ran. I dodged trees, bushes, and people alike. The air hung hot and humid, a light layer of sweat forming on my forehead.

We were playing Hide and Seek, the extreme version.

Gwen and Lilly had convinced Lacey, Adria, Titania, Marga, Tessa, Carnegie, and even surprisingly Georgiana to join the game. The Selected were fresh off the elimination of Gayle, Addison, and Temperance. So many of them were still inside thinking of their eliminated friends. But we still managed to convince a few to play with us for Gwen's birthday.

Gwen and I always played Hide and Seek back in Lakedon, where the twists and turns of the castle were the perfect hiding places for anyone looking to get away. But here at the palace in Angeles, there were the gardens. Two miles of trees, bushes, flowers, lakes, and woodland creatures. It could be quite relieving to escape the busyness of Angeles and the palace to go sit at a small lake for a few hours. But this was a competitive game and I wasn't intent on losing. Gwen was the Seeker, and though it was her birthday, I wasn't letting her find me.

I dashed through more trees and bushes until all the people were behind me there was only what was ahead. This was a game of strategy. Gwen expected me to hide somewhere in the trees, unpredictable and far away from everyone else. So I'd just have to do the opposite. I was only a few meters away from the Rose Courtyard. It was quite popular during the Spring and Summer seasons when the roses were in full bloom. The courtyard was popular enough that it would considered a pleasant place to sit for awhile and read, but was otherwise unvisited during the Autumn and Winter seasons.

Finally reaching my chosen destination, I looked around quickly to find a place to hide so I wasn't so exposed in a public setting. My eyes fell upon the domed stone pergola that was in the middle of the courtyard. Like the rest of the courtyard, roses hung onto the white marble structure like vines. Thick, evergreen ivory shrubs were trimmed into rectangles that surrounded the gravel pathways of the courtyard. Behind the marble pergola were several tall, topiary trees that gave the perfect hiding place.

Grinning to myself at my discovery, I quickly looked both ways to watch for approaching people. Seeing and hearing no one, only the rustling of the trees and rose vines in the soft, warm breeze. The air fragrant with the scent of roses. Standing up from my position hidden behind the trees, I dashed forward towards the cypress trees, skipping over the evergreen shrubs and running past the dozens of rose bushes. I could hardly see anything as I ran with all my might. Colors, sounds, and scents all blurred together when I was sprinting to reach my goal. There was only me, the ground, and the cypress trees. Reaching my hiding spot after a fast sprint, I swung myself in the ground behind several of the tall, thin trees. Not seeing where I was going, I ended up toppling over another figure behind the trees. Panic filled my senses and I whipped around to see who I had fallen upon.

"OW!" The figure winced as she laid on the ground, under me. I squinted my eyes, trying to regain more than my blurred vision. The figure I had fallen upon was female — probably one of the ladies we had invited to play with us — and rather slender and thin. It seemed that she didn't recognize me either. She lifted up a hand to push on my shoulder, trying to topple us over so she could get up. Snapping back into reality, I immediately recognized her and quickly fell off of her.

"Oh shit, I'm really sorry, Lilly," I apologized profusely. "I wasn't watching where I was going." I fell back on my knees and offered her a hand to help her sit up. Lilly didn't respond at first, only squinting at me, getting accustomed to the bright light I had pulled her into when I fell on her hiding spot. She brushed her chocolate brown hair out of her face and pulled up the v-neck white peasant top that fell off of her shoulder. Lilly took my hand and allowed me to pull her up onto her knees, her running another hand through her messy, wavy hair.

"Warren? How'd you find me?" She asked, squinting her eyes again. Her eyes really were beautiful. A deep sea blue color that looked endlessly intense. She had a piercing stare, though she didn't seem to recognize it. Lilly was also tall, around my height. And quite thin, almost spindly but not quite. She had long, tanned legs that she kept close to her chest as she leaned back against another one of the cypress trees. We were both low to the ground, hidden behind both the cypress trees and the rows of thick shrubbery, which I was leaning back against.

I laughed a little. "I didn't mean to find you. I was looking for a hiding place for myself and i stumbled upon the Rose Courtyard here," I told her. "It looked like a good hiding place because of all the trees and shrubs, so I decided to stay here. But it looks like I wasn't the only with the idea of hiding here." I gave her a soft smile which she returned. Only now did I realize indeed how close we here sitting to each other. My loafer-clad feet brushed up to her casual black slip-ons. Our legs were practically touching, and our faces merely a few inches apart.

"WARREN! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?" The familiar voice of my sister Gwen yelled in a booming voice throughout the garden. To the side of me, Lilly stifled a laugh as she shrunk herself lower to the ground and I copied her motion. We ended up pressed against each other but it didn't matter. The only goal was not getting caught by Gwen. "COME ON WARREN, COME OUT! IT'S MY DAMN BIRTHDAY!" Gwen shouted again, causing some birds from a nearby tree to squawk and flee their perches.

The urge to yell at her not to swear surged through me. But I stayed silent for the sake of my and Lilly's hiding spot. We stayed silent together, keeping out breathing low as we stayed pressed up against each other. Waiting for Gwen to get bored looking for us here and then move along to look somewhere else. I heard her mumble a few words to herself as she gazed over trees and bushes, luckily none near us. Knowing my sisters, she probably wouldn't bother searching the entire courtyard for a place where we could only possibly be hiding. Listening quietly, I heard her let out a sigh and trudge along on one of the gravel paths. The sound of her footsteps getting quieter and farther.

"Is she gone?" Lilly whispered at my side. The question seemed more to herself than aimed at me. She peeked her head up and straightened herself from being leaned against the ground. Pulling her long brown hair back over her thin shoulders, she sat up and quickly peered over the shrubbery we were hiding behind. I couldn't see where she was looking but her eyes surveyed the courtyard for a remaining sign of Gwen. The loose breath she let out relieved me that my sister had left the area and we were safe. "She's gone," Lilly continued to whisper. "Come on, I want to get up and stretch my legs."

"What if she comes back?" I whispered back. But Lilly didn't listen to me and slowly stood up, keeping herself on guard. "So we're not hiding anymore." I shook my head and smiled a little bit. Keeping my eyes squinted in focus, I carefully stood up and joined her looking over the trees, shrubs, and roses. The air was still humid, but not so much that it was uncomfortable. I was weary of the bees buzzing around — I didn't like bees ever since I was little and got stung by a bee on my foot.

"She won't come back, there are other places to look for us," Lilly said, her voice holding the slightest bit of worry to her words. "Hopefully," she added. I nodded at her and followed her as she walked out from behind the bushes and stepped out onto the gravel pathway. Her gaze reached the marble pergola in the center of the courtyard, with the rose vines creeping up the sides of the domed structure. Lilly walked over to the pergola and lifted a hand to touch the rose vines growing on the top rim of the structure. She had to stretch a bit to reach the roses but she managed to touch them nonetheless.

"I always liked the Rose Courtyard, it's always beautiful and calming, especially at this time of year." I said in a soft tone, walking towards the pergola structure where Lilly stood in the center of the marble platform. The roses were all different colors, still aesthetically pleasing. Red, pink, white, and yellow. They smelled sweet and beautiful, growing everywhere in the garden. I walked up the small steps of the pergola to meet Lilly at the center of the structure. There was a bare spot of shade under the domed roof, but it was too warm out to be considered cool.

"It is beautiful," Lilly said with a smile, looking out at the rest of the courtyard. "If I lived there I would never want to leave."

My smile faltered for a moment. "It's beautiful, but it's no where I'd want to leave forever."

Lilly looked at me strangely. "But you want to be King, don't you?" She asked, turning towards me with her head leaned a bit to the left in question. I sighed and shook my head, trying to find something to say to her. Explaining a long history of hate.

I tensed and hesitated to say anything else. "It's like a gilded cage," I eventually told her, blowing air through my lips. "I'll be the King of Illéa, living in luxury — and having all the power I could ever imagine. But it's a poisonous world. People get hurt. People die." I gave her a pointed look and she glanced away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. We both knew who I was referring to. "But I was born in raised in this world, so I might as well be just as poisonous as the rest of them." I sighed, shaking my head in disappointment at myself.

"I don't think you're poisonous."

I turned to look at Lilly. She had a sympathetic half-smile on her face, leaned back against the marble railing of the pergola. She still wore those black high-waisted shorts and the white v-neck shirt that was now untucked and hanging off her shoulders. She stood tall and beautiful, only forward back a bit from holding onto the railing.

I gave her a weak smile. "Thanks."

"I mean it!" She took a step forward, closer to me. "I can see you much you love your sister and how you want to protect everyone you love. If anything is beautiful in this palace, you're probably the most beautiful out of all of them!" Lilly said while walking closer to me. She stopped mid-walk as she recounted her words and a bright blush lit up on her cheeks. Once again, she ducked her head and brushed a tress of dark hair behind her ear. No part of me could describe how touched I felt by her. A warmth, not from the sun, filled my chest as I smiled at her.

"Thank you," I repeated to her, walking closer until we were barely a few inches apart. Gently, I took her hand in mine, following all the impulses in my body. She looked up, surprised.

"What do we do now?" She whispered, a hand resting against my chest as she leaned in slightly. But she stopped short and rethought her words."Okay, wow, that was really awkward, I'm sorry."

I gave her a little smile. "Don't be sorry. I was just going to ask if I could ki—"

"Holy hell, guys."

Both of our heads shot forward to the front of the courtyard. We quickly separated, seeing who it was. Gwen was standing there in her blue skirt, white crop top, and blue high heeled sandals. A smirk was on her face and her arms were crossed, a sense of proudness surrounding her.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you guys not to come out of your hiding places until the game is over?" Gwen laughed. "I guess I win the game."

I shot Lilly one last look, a look of apology. Then I turned and rolled my eyes at my sister, walking down the steps of the rose-covered, marble pergola to grab my sister into a hug.

"Happy birthday, little sis."

* * *

Hello! Thank you for reading my story and please review to tell me what you think! Thank you to all my reviewers and readers last chapter and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.


	20. Chapter Twenty

The Death of a Bachelor

You mustn't live so lightly,

Spin your stories, tell your tales,

Let them dance across oceans,

And let the wind upon your sails,

For every truth found in your travels,

And in the pits of your despair,

Is a shout into forever

Of "I existed, and I cared."

\- e.h

 **Caspian Valencia**

 _You handsome bastard_.

I gazed into the golden full length mirror against the dark wall of my palace bedroom. Dressed in a fine dark blue suit and black tie, I was surely a handsome bastard. My black hair was combed and gelled back to put emphasis on my blue eyes sparkling with mirth. The sleek, black oxfords I wore clicked along the marble floor as I walked out of my suite.

The night sky was alight with the lights of the city. Nowhere in Angeles would anyone be getting a good night of sleep. Already, the loud music was pounding throughout the palace. Outside of windows, fireworks and sparklers blazed across the dark skies glowing with reflections of multicolored spotlights. I lived — _thrived_ on the energy of the city.

Only a few days ago it was the fourteenth birthday of Gwendolyn Schreave, though there was no party. She didn't want one. Her parents didn't want one either, believing it would raw attention to the young girl's strategically strong, but rather unpopular engagement. She was now only fourteen, still four years younger than her eighteen year old husband-to-be. My parents didn't like the engagement as well. For decades, we had the English Royal family in the palm of our hands as their kingdom secretly weakened and lost its power. Both Ireland and Scotland left the kingdom. Ireland forming their own democracy and Scotland returning to its ruling clans.

But now was not the time for needless worries about far away politics. It was my twentieth birthday on this very day. Technically, I didn't turn twenty until eleven o'clock at night, but it was all the same. All the glittering gold and silver decorated the palace for my birthday. The biggest celebration of the year — until my coronation as King of Illéa. People flew out from all over the world to attend the party.

I was almost there. The staircase I descended down was dark, barely lit by only a few oil lamps that lined the dark blue walls. The room was almost slight, though it wasn't. But the air was cool and should have been calming, but I felt goosebumps on my arms. A deep breath settled in the back my throat. A sense of nervous flitted through me for a second before I pushed it back down. Frowning, I wondered what I had to be nervous about. _There's nothing to be worried about, it's your birthday party._ But it was almost like I could feel that something — good or bad — would happen tonight.

"Caspian! Get your ass over here."

I finished walking down the stairs to spot my old friend Winnie, who wore a partially see-through, low cut dress with pink and blue floral embroidery. Even though she had a pair of four inch heels, she was still several inches shorter than me. She had a grin on her face as she walked up to me, her dress swishing behind her. Her legs were exposed, the front of the dress falling inches above her knees and the back was long, almost touching the floor and trailing behind her.

"What? No happy birthday for your oldest friend?" I laughed at her, pulling her into a hug when we met at the bottom of the staircase. After a moment of hugging, she pried my hands off of her and smirked upwards at me.

"Happy birthday, Cas. You're now one year closer to dying, congratulations."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Don't you know how to charm a guy."

She smirked again. "Yes I do. Look at you, you're head over heels in love with me."

"I love how you think that if you keep saying that, he'll actually fall in love with you, sweetie," Octavian teased, calling from the other side of the room. I laughed, not exactly understanding the joke, but assumed by the upset look on Winnie's face as she glared at Octavian that it was funny. She turned around and shot me a look for laughing.

"You get back here Octavian Illéa! You didn't let me stab my high heel in your eye yet!" Winnie shouted after Octavian, who was laughing wildly and running into another hallway. I laughed at pair of them as Winnie ran after Octavian with a murderous look on her face. They ran around the hallway for a bit with Winnie shouting profanities at him until she got mad her heels and yanked them off, having to stop to take them off. Octavian, laughing, jogged over to my side and grinned at Winnie.

"You know, sweetie, it's a bit hard to be scared of you when you look like a slightly bigger version of Polly Pocket. But at least her jokes are funny." Octavian teased at the angry blonde.

Winnie rolled her eyes, now sitting on the floor and rubbing her heel before slipping the high heels back on and getting back up. "I assure that I'm much funnier than that blonde bimbo," Winnie said with a humpf and crossing her arms.

Octavian's eyes sparkled. " _Whatever you say sweetie_."

"Come on guys, it's only eight o'clock," I said, interrupted whatever response Winnie was about to shoot back with. "And it's my birthday so be nice." Octavian flashed Winnie his trademark wink and was quick to respond.

"I can play nice, Caspian," Octavian began, "but I can't promise the same from Winnie."

Winnie rolled her green eyes. "Don't ever expect me to play nice. It's not my thing. And it never will be."

* * *

The party was booming and it was only nine o'clock. Lights and dances blazed by in blurs of alcohol rushes and bodies pressed together. Dance music blared over loud speakers as shoes were thrown away and skirts were picked up. Pity on anyone who wore tight, unshiftable clothing because they were missing out on the night of their lives. Tonight we were not Royals — we were young and lively. Granted all the time in the world through our privilege.

I couldn't count how many people I had danced with. Body over body flashed past my eyes in distorted vision, the impatient music robbing me blind. I recognized flickers of faces underneath flaring strobe lights that streaked across the ballroom. Perfumes and glitz surrounded my senses, eliciting a vigor of euphoria. _Let's get drunk, not with liquor, fame works quicker_. My partner was unrecognizable. Perhaps I knew her. But for tonight I didn't care. Our bodies molded together under the burning lustre over us. Shadows hid our faces as we focused on each other. We were both drunk, perhaps not on liquor but the rapture of our own ecstasy. As the music reached intensity, my partner threw her head back just as a strobe light blew us into the light.

Blasts of music pounded throughout the room. I was almost blinded with pure white light from the blazing flames that danced across the walls. My partner didn't have the same problem. Her eyes were closed, breathing in the room deeply. Dark chocolate brown hair was pulled up into a loose bun with strands falling around her dark face, revealing glittery, carefully-done makeup that illuminated her beautiful features under the gleaming sky. _Fame, liquor, love, give it to me slowly. Put your hands on my waist, do it softly._ I watched her effortlessly as a new sense came over me. I never really noticed her before now. It had taken a drunken dance under the influence of music and magnetism for us to be pulled together.

Our bodies still shifted together, moving to the music that pulses through our bodies. Getting closer and closer. I had made many mistakes with getting too close before. One too many mistakes I would always regret and would haunt me for the rest of my days. But whatever was the harm in getting close for one night that we were due to forget? _We were children of the bad revolution, and partying is the only solution._ I wanted to whisper in her ear, to recall her name on the tip of my tongue. We were so close. Nothing separating us. Only her eyes. Her eyes were still closed and I prayed that she would open them. I prayed she'd open them to see me in all the raw vulnerability.

" _Caspian!_ "

I could barely hear the voice over my enchantment with my partner, but it felt like a soft, repeating ringing in my ear. Not pounding like the music. It was a ringing reminder of a voice long forgotten. I felt a tug on my shirt, hands tearing me away from my partner. Desperation swept over me. I wanted to stay with her. I didn't want to leave. But the hands, small but strong, tore me away from her. My captor pulled me away from my partner, forcing my hands around her waist as she rested her hands on my shoulders. Swaying us into a dance. In a last act, I turned to desperately search for my partner. I found her over everyone else. She was dressed in a silvery dress that matched her illuminating makeup. Her eyes were opened. All too late. She glanced around, confused. I could see her, but she couldn't see me.

My captor tugged on my sleeve again, trying to say something into my ear. But I didn't care. I despairingly looked after my previous partner, who was beginning to fade into the crowd of dancing people. But my captor held me back. All senses of euphoria had disapparated. Bringing a new burning of anger at my unidentified captor. She was smaller than me. With familiar golden blonde hair, brilliant emerald eyes, and...and...that familiar face. Almost all the feelings of anger disapparated as quickly as the euphoria. I wasn't able to be mad at her. That was impossible for my closest and oldest friend. Although I couldn't help but wish she hadn't pulled me away from my previous partner.

"Winnie," I croaked out over the loud music. I didn't bother raising my voice, not that I could even if I tried, feeling weakened against the energy surrounding us. Winnie rolled her eyes and shifted us into another dance as the music changed. If she could hear me, I wouldn't know. But it was easy enough to read lips for simple words and names. "Winnie," I repeated, barely louder this time, trying to catch her attention. She either didn't hear me or chose to ignore me. "Winnie!" I said for the third time, attempting to catch her so she couldn't ignore me. Accidentally, I shook her hand off my shoulder in trying to get attention and she looked up to glare at me.

"Shut up and just dance with me," she said with a glare. With no resolution, I felt powerless. I allowed her to pull me back into a dance. We were surrounded by people. All brushing up against each other. Like a mosh pit at a concert, but without the exultation. _Breathe_ , I told myself, _just breathe_. Letting the music and energy take over my body, I relaxed into a pattern. I danced with Winnie, my mind whirling as fast as the strobe lights above. A new, vaguely familiar song took over the speakers. The song was slower with a dark beat; a calm, soothing melody. A remembrance to Frank Sinatra, who Nixon always played when he worked on his computer. He had a million albums and I used to sort through them all by my favorites when I was a kid. He had traveled to Angeles for my birthday, though I had yet to see him. As Winnie and I danced closely, the singer hit his falsetto. A smooth high note that I could never imagine reaching. The jazzy, synth-pop song was filled with velvety saxophones and words. Leading me into a drunken slur of movement.

Faces passed by. To my brief surprise, I spotted Nixon dancing with Nymaria. The two seemed to be laughing and enjoying each other's intimate company while swaying to the music. He managed to flash me a wink before turning back to Nymaria, who was dressed in a glittery white mini-dress. I couldn't help but frown to myself watching them. Nixon was never much of a flirt, but he had his ways. Hopefully he and Nymaria didn't do anything irresponsibly until the Selection was over. It would be quite the scandal. Of course, I was one to talk, considering my past track record of impulsiveness. But in another flash of light, they were gone. Replaced with people who I didn't bother to recognize. Brief faces danced by. Marga, dressed in a white jumpsuit that looked to the other half of Nymaria's dress. I knew them to be friends, perhaps they decided to go together matching. Lacey, Juliette, and Carnegie were happily dancing and stumbling around with each other. All of them dressed gorgeously, as usual.

As with the other songs, this one reached the top of the build and crashed all around. Red and purple flares streaked across the floors and walls. Winnie and I danced close. Our bodies shaping against each other's frames. I felt other people's eyes fixated on us. It was never unusual to be watched — considering my position, it was never strange. The same went for Winnie. Together, we drew eyes wherever we went. It was a privilege to have our power and a curse to wield it. I raised a gentle hand to hold the side of her neck, the lace of her dress tangling around my fingers. We both leaned in close. I spun her around as the music gained intensity, our movements growing faster.

Once again, a faint voice reached my ears. Almost recognizable, yet ever so far away. Winnie held onto me tightly while we danced. The voice continued calling me until it sounded angry and perpetually louder. Still, I tried to block the voice out of my head and continued dancing with Winnie. Only a moment later, hands began to tug at the back of my shirt. Confused, I tried to shake them off but the hands kept tugging. The voice yelled something in my ear, which I could hardly hear over the pounding song that had reached its high. The hands tugged on my collar, causing me to yelp out and let go of Winnie. The blonde looked up and glared again, clearly asking why I had stopped and dropped her from our dance. She upsettingly noticed the hands tugging on my shirt and pushed me out of the way, preparing to yell at whoever it was. Half blinded by the shimmering lights, I couldn't see either Winnie or who she was about to yell at. After another moment, Winnie stepped back, the light angling back on her face. She had gone as white as a sheet. Utterly terrified.

Frowning, I squinted to see who had scared Winnie. My eyes focused on a navy blue-clad woman, who was taller than Winnie, though not by much, and held an intimidating disposition. The woman continued ticking off factors on my list as I slowly came to terms with the figure. She was not happy. Not quite murderous yet, but she might as well have been. Standing tall with her arms crossed and a nasty glare on her face. Strobe lights flashed in and out of focus, allowing me to piece her image together. Her espresso brown hair, dark brown eyes holding no warmth, and her inforcing stance. It took me a moment but I finally recognized her. My mother — Odelia.

"Mother…"

"Shut up and come with me." Odelia shot back. Her tan hand darted forward and tugged me towards her. She had a no-nonsense look on her face and she forced the crowd of dancing people apart with one glare, pulling me with her and leaving Winnie behind. Rushing through thick crowds of people, I wanted to yell at her to stop. I was having enough of being pushed around for one day. But she continued pulling me through crowds and hallways until we reached an empty chamber. Odelia was muttering to herself as she let go of my shoulder, leaving me to look around the room in a daze. The room was small, although the lack of furniture and decorations made the space look bigger and emptier. Faded light lavender paint paneled the walls, the tall windows were closed and covered by thick, dusty white curtains that reached from ceiling to floor. Another room left abandoned since the Revolution. The palace was filled with old, empty rooms which served no purpose other than haunting reminders of the people who once lived and walked these halls. Those who studied history, as I did when I was younger, knew that half of the palace burned down in the Revolution. A revenge ploy from the Valencias in the name of our lost Queen and Princess during those dark days. Only one wing of the old palace remained after the fires swept through Angeles, burning everything and everyone in its path. Some rumored that the old passageways and tunnels from the old palace still remained, yet over time the palace's inhabitants forgot how to access the passageways. Simple rumors, nonetheless.

"I had so much hope for you. Did you know that?"

I sighed, knowing where this conversation was going. "Don't worry, you still have Nixon as a backup son if I fail." I attempted to make a joke, yet neither of us truly wanted to joke so it didn't stick well with her.

"That boy is nothing to me."

I blew through my lips. "He's your son just as much as I am. Anyway, imagine what he'd think if he heard you say that about him!" I insisted, taking a step closer. My mother was bundling her emotions, tensing up, preparing for a volcano. I had seen it many times when she was upset and trying to restrain herself. It never worked.

"This isn't a game, Caspian," she said tightly. "We can't switch out old pieces for new ones. We don't get to start over whenever we get bored, tired, or _careless_. Your brother will never be King — _he can't_ — as much as he may dream in earnest. As much as he may seem like he is perfectly fine, you know in your heart that he is steaming on the inside." A dark look filled her eyes, recalling a memory from her past. "I've seen it happen before. In the last Selection. Hendrix Schreave had a brother, did you know that?"

I paused my answer hesitantly. "No, I did not know that. I've never met or heard of him."

Odelia's dark brown eyes were steely. "He left a long time ago. We don't talk about him anymore. It is likely that not even the Schreave children are aware of their uncle once existing. But this is what happens. Power splits families. If that boy was not dead already, it wouldn't be insane to wonder if he was plotting against Hendrix and his niece and nephew to gain power."

I stared at her momentarily, processing her words and fixating them to the point she was trying to make. I took a deep breathe. "Are you trying to suggest that Nixon is trying to kill me? My brother Nixon — your _son_ — is trying to kill me to gain power?" I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my forehead. "I just...no...that couldn't ever happen!'

"It's not unreasonable to think about. You don't know." She said with a distant voice, the tightness and pain in her voice still visible until she swallowed it down and put on another face of steel. "We don't know the future. But even though he is your brother, he will always hate you for taking away the power that could have been his."

We went quiet. In my heart, I knew she was right. But I couldn't help being stuck in denial for by beloved brother hating me. "I understand," I said simply and quietly.

"That is why your actions today were completely inappropriate. In a few months from now, you will be engaged to be married. This is your Selection, not the time to be playing the wild bachelor." Odelia insisted logically, containing her anger in a sheen of superiority. "This day will mark the death of a bachelor, and the beginning of your maturity."

I felt immobilized. I wanted to shoot back a response, but knowing my mother, she wouldn't take it well. Prone to rashness, I looked over the frozenness and impulsively responded. "What if I don't want to get married?" I asked with narrowed eyes. "What if I just want to go out and dance—and...and...have fun with my life! Is that so wrong? What's wrong with that?"

I quickly realized that I had made a fatal mistake. Angrily, she stepped forward and grabbed me by the collar of my white shirt, pulling me closer.

"Because you are impulsive and reckless!" Odelia spat in my face, her features twisted up in anger. "You are a danger to yourself! You and that girl are wild. _Having fun_ is not an option for us. I've seen what happens when you let your impulsiveness control you, in front of every important Noble and Royal in all of Illéa!"

I took a step back and wiped off my face, scowling at her. "It was just dancing. We weren't doing anything other than dancing!"

Odelia scoffed and threw her hands up. "Just dancing? The pair of you were practically grinding up against each other! That was completely inappropriate!"

"Well no one noticed until you started yelling!" I said angrily.

"God be damned Caspian, you are the Lord Valencia! An heir to the throne of Illéa! Everyone was watching you! They'll always be watching you no matter what you do or where you go!" She yelled back, slamming her hand down on a table covered with a dusty white sheet.

My breathing was hot and fast. "You know what! No!" I threw my hands up in the air and grabbed my hair between my fingers, impatient thoughts ravaging my mind. "No! No! No! That's not the type of life I want and it's not the type of life that I want to have!" I yelled at her, the words fast and desperate. Another dark look crossed her face and she stepped forward, mouth open and about to say something to shut me down. But I was quicker. I pushed past her to slam the door open and practically sprint down the hallway to get away from her.

 _First, she says my brother is going to kill me_

 _Second, she tells me I can never me happy_.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I looked up from resting against the wall, panting. There was Allegra, standing in a low cut glittery dress with her arms crossed and a concerned look on her face as she gazed at me with her dark brown eyes.

"And don't say that you are, because you're clearly not." She said, her gaze both calculating and apprehensive.

"I'm sorry." The words spilled out of my lips automatically, like a programmed machine. "I just needed to step out for a bit."

"Huh."

We stared at each other from afar. I was still leaned back against the doorframe, trying to regain my strength from a pain that had not yet faded. She was sitting vigilantly on a plush couch, the color of roses in the spring that matched the shade of her lip gloss. WIthout a mirror, I knew that I looked disheveled and perhaps a bit crazed. But she kept her gaze steady and keen.

"Do you want to sit down?" Allegra asked slowly, shifting herself over to make room on the couch. I felt stagnant and witless, in no move to negotiate. So I nodded my head silently and forced myself from the wall. With slightly stumbling, I pushed myself to the couch and collapsed down on the plush pillows. Knowing that Allegra's eyes were watching me. I let out a big sigh and put my head in my hands, feeling too exhausted to say anything else. Slowly, I could feel the warm affects of the alcohol sweeping out my body and leaving the faint symptoms of alcohol consumption. A now-faint, but painfully growing headache.

"Thank you," I managed out painfully. I could almost see her give a sympathetic smile.

"Rough night?" She questioned, the hint of a laugh at the end of her words.

"And on my birthday, who'd've thought?" I joked exhaustively. Turning slightly to face her, still leaned down with my head in my hands, I observed her. Her dress was long and sewn with silvery sparkles — a style that didn't seem quite like her. But her hair was hung down and natural, sticking a little wildly due to what I assumed was hairspray. Unlike usual, her expression was not as serious and cold. She looked genuinely humored at our conversation. "So what brings you out here?" I asked with a small smile,

Allegra smiled back, apprehensively so. "I don't like parties," she answered shortly, "and loud mobs of people." She played with the hem of her glitzy dress, which must've been quite uncomfortable to sit in. I couldn't stand wearing that scratchy material. Allegra must've had a strong resilience in her to stand the glittery, uncomfortable material. But she wore it well, with a strong expression that suited her more than the dress itself. "Nymaria and Marga already pulled me into the room to dance," she said distantly, "but Nymaria got drunk and they ran off and left me alone. So I left and came out here. As I said, I don't like parties."

"I can't say the same," I said, dismayed at myself but words controlled, "I usually love parties."

"But not tonight?"

"But not tonight," I confirmed with a tired utterance.

Allegra gave a humored side glance, a tiny smile on the edge of her painted glossy lips. Surprisingly enough, we must have been farther away from the music than I previously thought. Or the walls were thick. The sitting room — almost empty besides a few couches and ourselves — was quiet and immune to the pounding music only a few minutes away. We sat quietly, unwilling to push each other on details. In my heart, I knew that I should have headed back to the party by now. It didn't look good for the person of the evening wasn't at his own birthday party. But I didn't want to leave.

So I sat with Allegra by my side, in comforting silence.

* * *

 **Forgive me, I'm tired. I hope you enjoyed the chapter anyways!**


	21. Chapter Twenty One

Painted

Let me tell the tale

Of a girl who didn't stop,

Who climbed up every mountain

Without a pause at the top.

She'd dance until each blade of grass

Was clothed in drops of dew,

And the sun knew her by name

But the silver moon did too.

For a fear had settled in her bones;

A fear of sitting still,

That if you're not moving forward

It must mean you never will.

So in time her dance got slower

And she looked at all she'd seen,

But found gaps inside the places

That she'd never fully been.

For she was a human doing

Human moving, human seeing,

But she'd never taken the time

To simply be a human being.

 **Lochlen Illéa**

The sky was bleak, flickers of blue sky against the dark clouds. Per usual, the air was humid. These type of clouds were indeed a rarity here in Angeles, but the temperature never dipped below 70 degrees on any given day. Today the sky above showed signs of a rain storm. Along the West Coast of Illéa, rain was treated as a gift sent from the heavens above. But, I hoped, it wouldn't rain too soon. We were still playing our last game.

The camouflage vest around my chest was tight against my quick breaths. Padding covered every inch of my body, which came in extremely helpful due to my clumsy self who fell down constantly while running. There were several ripped holes in the top layer of my padded pants, but we had all donned extra layers in case of such an accident. A heavy gun was strapped to my side as I ran and dodged through bushes and trees. Occasionally stopping to catch my breath. _It was quiet, too quiet._

" _Ha_!" Juliette yelled victoriously as she popped out from behind a tree. We wore the same uniform and headgear, only her black-brown hair was tied up in a high ponytail that swung as she jumped forward. With a competitively proud look on her face, she pulled the trigger on her gun and I yelped, instinctively shielding my face. A resonating bang rang out as I cringed and fell back against the pressure. I opened my eyes and cringed again at the sting I felt as I saw the splattered yellow paint on my padded shirt.

Sighing, I assisted the yellow splatter and tiredly joked, "I can't believe it. You got me again." Looking up from examining the few other paint splatters on my shirt — shades of red, green, and yellow, no blue just yet — I noticed that Juliette had left. " _Smart_ ," I grumbled to myself while pulling my paintball gun from the latch at my side, " _she left before I could shoot her back_." Stopping in my path, I looked up and cleared my head to listen for any giveaway noises that other competitors were lurking about. I heard no sign other than the birds in the trees and a faint rustling of leaves in the wind, nothing unusual.

Taking a cautionary step forward, I let out a slow, contained breath of leisure and patience, putting the gun back in its latch. This was the only game I was ever to beat Octavian in. His magic tricks were of no use in this game of a marksman's skill and mastery. Sure, I could be clumsy, but I was quiet. I had only been shot four times, which was nothing compared to everyone else in the game. Although, the one person who perhaps had less hits than me was the one girl no one had seen all afternoon. It seemed she was an absolutely brilliant hider and shooter, but I wouldn't let her win a game. This was my territory to play.

It was a small, condensed space. I hid between bushes and trees, pausing every other second to listen for any changes in the wind. I was careful not to step on any crunchy leaves or tree branches, so when I heard a twig snap loudly I froze in place. I was still behind a large tree so I had good cover, but if anyone was creeping around and getting suspicious then I was caught. Staying quiet, I began to hear a sound that was suspiciously not my own. Light pants of breath from an approaching figure coming from the trees in the opposite direction from which I was standing. I was dancing on the edge of a small clearing in the forest, where it seemed the figure was intending on walking to. As the figure broke through the trees into direct view, I quickly recognized the person and rested my hand on my gun in preparation to shoot.

Marga stood tall in her dark paintball protection clothing. She only had a few yellow and green splatters on her paintball jacket, which she kept zipped up unlike myself. The jacket was too small and kept me from running at my usual speed, but unfortunately I wasn't allowed to discard the unwanted material. Like Juliette, she had her dark brown hair tied up and her face protection goggles on, which were only slightly dotted with yellow paint. It seemed that Juliette had just barely missed her there. Her breathing was in pants as she stood with her hands on her waist and trying to catch her breath from running fast. I grinned to myself, _she would be an easy target_. The only thing I had to calculate was how many times I could shoot her before she managed to run away. But now she was tired and a more vulnerable target for me to shoot.

Loading my gun as quietly as I could, I pulled it out of the holder and aimed it from my position from behind the tree. I was being careful not to reveal myself — Marga would be able to tell it was me by the color of the paintballs, but she wouldn't be able to shoot back. Slowly, I lifted the gun up and placed my finger on the trigger. As I pulled the finger, bracing for the backlash, all hell broke loose in front of me. Marga screamed wildly, swatting at the air before falling down and picking her gun back up, firing wildly at the area around her. I almost laughed at the scene in front of me but retained my focus on Marga until her entire jacket was covered with purple paint splatters. I made sure to keep behind the tree so Marga couldn't hit me with her wild shots. It only took her a full fourteen seconds of being shot at for her to realize who was shooting at her so mercilessly.

"Lochlen!" She screamed at the top of her lungs as she angrily grabbed her gun that fell on the ground and aimed at me from behind the tree with intense focus. She quickly pulling the trigger before I had time to move out of the way and yelped loudly as she hit my leg twice with her red paint. I swung around, dizzy from the pain of my leg stinging from the shot, and took off running as fast as I could. But Marga was relentless — she wanted revenge. Behind me, I heard her yell and take off after me. Her shoes pounded on the ground, sprinting to try and catch up on my head start. I had to admit that she was a fast runner. Probably faster than me, but I still had my head start. "I'm gonna get you for that—"

Marga was suddenly cut off by a loud _bang_ and her own angry yell. Dropping from behind a hidden bush sprang out Lydia Edwards of Sonage with a victorious 'whoop' and a proud grin. I stopped to watch them, laughing as I slowly walked backwards. Marga was laying on the ground yelling at Lydia as the shorter brunette laughed and pummeled her with more of her green paintballs. Marga kicked out at Lydia's legs, causing the slightly younger girl to yelp out in pain and drop her gun, crouching down to hold her undoubtedly red ankle. "Don't shoot me!" Marga yelled, the competitiveness in her veins. She grabbed Lydia's mistakenly abandoned paintball gun and pointed at my slowly retreating figure without pulling the trigger just yet. "Shoot at him! We can't let Lochlen win!" Marga continued yelling, aiming Lydia's gun at me and pulling the trigger.

"Hey!" I yelled back, jumping to side just in time that I missed the green paint bullet by barely a hair. "That's against the rules! You can't do that!" I glared at Lydia's gun, which Marga was holding and shooting sporadically. Lydia groaned on the ground, rubbing her head and slowly pulling herself up. She grabbed onto Marga's arm to help get herself up, which caused Marga to stop shooting and hand Lydia her gun back. Swiftly, Marga pulled out her own red paintball gun and aimed it at me. Alerted by them teaming up against me, I turned and ran, knowing that the two of them were both close on my tail. There was no time to spare as I sprinted away from the pair of them. For a split second, I turned around while still running to try and attempt to spot Marga and Lydia. To my relief, I couldn't see them and I was entering another small clearing with plenty of tall trees and good places to hide. But as I turned around to look for a place to hide, I slammed into a smaller body with all my might. She fell back on the ground and let out a groan of pain, pulling off her mask and rubbing her red face that was distorted in pain. "Oh darn it, Juliette," I said, panicking and dropping down next to her to try and help her up. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going," I apologize sorrowfully.

Juliette simply groaned and opened her distorted brown eyes, wincing at the bright light above our heads. _What if I gave her a concussion_? I worried immensely while trying to comfort her and apologizing more. She stumbled around on the ground until she found her mask again and fumbled to put it back on her face. I helped her put the straps back on, knowing all too well that it wouldn't be safe to have her mask off for long. Once the mask was secure, a clearly dazed Juliette searched for her paintball gun. It had landed a few feet away from where she'd fallen and I stretched over to grab it and hand the gun back to her, all the while feeling worse with every passing second. Strapping the gun back on her side, she shook her head and fumbled to pull it back out of the casing and held it with her finger on the trigger. "I don't think you should hold it like that," I said gently, worried she might accidentally shoot herself. "You might hurt yourself." Juliette appeared still stunned and not listening to me at all. Instead, she raised but the gun and pointed it at my chest. Before I could say or do anything, she pulled the trigger and shot me straight across the chest. I was flabbergasted and fell back on my knees as waves of dulled pain rolled over my chest. "What the hell?" I mumbled, "I thought you were out of it."

Juliette still looked dazed, but she managed a lazy grin. "Don't mess with the Fashion Designer," she said languidly, clearly proud of herself for taking advantage of my worried state. "Consider it payback for knocking me over," she added, grinning and shooting me again once. I winced from the impact of the yellow paint bullet, slightly upset at myself for letting my guard down around her when she had her gun in hand. Even dazed, Juliette was a formidable competitor. My sense were dulled until I faintly heard the pounding of feet on the leaves come into earshot. Immediately, I shot back into focus only to be shot on the shoulder with a green paintball. Lydia came running out of the woods first, her gun aimed and ready to shoot. Marga emerged from the trees next with a victorious expression on her undoubtedly beautiful face. She aimed her gun and shot two red paintballs. Then the pair approached forward, aiming both of their guns at me but watching Juliette suspiciously. "A truce, for now," Juliette suggested, having shaken off most of the shock. "We finish off Lochlen so there's no way he can win then we go up against each other. May the best woman win?"

Lydia and Marga looked at each other, silently considering the deal. I waited patiently, holding my breath, knowing that if I moved an inch they would all shoot me at once regardless of any previously created deal. "Agreed, may the best woman win," both Lydia and Marga repeated at the same time with grins on their faces as they peered down at me. I gulped and dropped my gun, making a last attempt to cover my face before the three of them attacked me with all of their paintball guns at once. I wasn't sure who had struck me first, but it hurt like hell. They kept firing at me while I struggled to get away, but in the blaze of strikes I couldn't find my paintball gun. I was stuck at their mercy. But soon my savior came.

I couldn't see anything. My goggles were blocked with different shades of color. I only heard Lydia's scream as she was hit from a paintball shooter from the sky. Next, Marga's strangled yell came as she was pelted with blue paint bullets. I couldn't help but grin at the sight I could just barely picture in my mind. With Lydia and Marga down, and Juliette distracted with trying to protect herself, I was able to move enough to get out of the line of fire. I stood up, leaning against a tree, using a ripped part of my uniform to wipe some of the paint off my goggles. Wiping the paint off my black gloves on the legs of my pants, I grinned up at my savior in shining paintball uniform. She had a perfectly clean, black uniform and was standing on a thick branch of one of the tall trees we were surrounded by. The perfect hiding place, and an even better trap for anyone who stumbled into her lair of trees.

With the final few shots, Juliette fell to the ground, groaning in complaint. All three of them — Lydia, Marga, and Juliette — wore uniforms soaked entirely with blue paint. Their guns were their knocked out of their hands or almost out of paintballs to shoot. _Victory_. There may have been no way I could win, considering that I was covered from head to toe in green, red, and yellow paint. But it did feel sweet to see my competitors out of the game and equally covered in paint. Looking up to the trees, I saw my savior again. Her hazelnut hair — if hair could be described as a hazel color of sorts — was tied back smoothly, glinting golden in the breaks of light from the clouds. Not even mussed. She caught my eye. We held eye contact for a brief second before she broke the connection and began her descent from the branches. I watched her intently until she reached the ground, when I started walking over to her with a grin. "That was amazing," I told her, not quite sure whether to hug or shake her hand. "We should team up more often."

She raised an eyebrow. "Team up?" She questioned almost disdainfully, stepping back and glaring at my outstretched hand, taking me by surprise. "Do you mean, me taking all the shots and you standing out of the way and letting me do all the work?" When I didn't respond right away, not sure how to react to this new predicament, she laughed sarcastically. "Yeah, no thanks. I work alone. You'd only slow me down." With that word, she pulled her blue paintball gun back out and gave me a pointed look. I watched the paintball gun with caution, slowly realizing that the only person who had not hit me yet was, in fact, the very person in front of me. She smiled to herself, playing with the trigger of the paintball gun. Suddenly, the mood took a one-eighty spin and she whipped out the gun to point it right at my chest. "All I need to do is hit you with one paintball and I win," she said in a bare whisper, grinning evilly.

"Goddamnit, just shoot him and get this over with!" Marga mumbled exasperatedly from the ground, leaning back against a tree next to both Lydia and Juliette. She was covered in all five shades of paint splatter, besides her own red color. The majority of the paint of all of them was blue, the color that currently soaked the ground we were standing on. All three of them looked tired and impatient to get the game over. We all wanted to game to end and to go back to the palace, but there was unsettled business here that had to be finished. This was life and death — paintball edition. "Just shoot him!" Marga repeated, annoyed and tired, to the girl with the gun aimed at my chest.

I immediately raised my hands in the air and gave the girl in front of me a panicked look, slowly taking steps back one at a time. She followed after me, slowly taking her own steps forward, continuing to play with the trigger of the gun. I knew that my padded vest would absorb most of the pain, but I couldn't stand losing, especially since I was so close. _So close, so close_. All I could do now was hopelessly argue for my freedom. Or perhaps a fair battle once I got my purple paintball gun back. Although I knew deep down that she wasn't in the mood to agree to any of those ideas. It wasn't quite in her person. "Look," I began timidly, "you don't want to shoot me—"

"Why shouldn't I?" She cut me off, asking the question with an amused quirk of her eyebrow. "It's so easy to win. All I need to do is shoot you then I win. No need for arguing." She finished, grinning and putting her finger on the trigger. I stopped in my place with baited breath, squeezing my eyes shut in preparation for the final shot. I heard her pulling on the trigger with a faint click, sending a blue paintball slamming straight onto my chest. Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked down at my chest. Dead center — a blue paint splatter. I lost. Looking back up at her, I managed a friendly smile. She let out a faint smile herself and walked directly up to me, her gun leading on her shoulder. Once she was a foot in front of me, she gave me a victorious look. "Don't mess with the main bitch," Georgiana Dalessio-Skare commanded, tossing her gun over her shoulder and giving me a final look. "I win."

* * *

 **Here's a fluffy little paintball break from all the politics in this story lol. Sorry it's so short but I haven't had a lot of time to write in the past two weeks so this was what I wrote in the few hours I had to write. I felt bad that I didn't update on Sunday so I'm planning on updating twice this week — today and Sunday, as usual. I hope you enjoyed this short chapter and please do review! Thanks for reading!**


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

A Royal Pain

but darling,

in the end,

you've got to be

your own hero,

because everybody's

busy

trying to save

 _themselves_.

( _c.t._ )

 **Warren Schreave**

"No! No! No! Cyrus, how many times have I told you that the Empress of New Asia is allergic to chrysanthemums?" I asked, exasperated. Cyrus Lowry, the servant boy placing orange chrysanthemums in a purple vase, froze in place with his hands floated ghostly around the flower bouquet he had only previously arranged. I sighed and rubbed my temples, tired of constantly having to correct the younger boy on his job. "Just take them out and put them in Queen Fiorella's room. I recall that she had a fondness for all flowers," I instructed to the boy. He silently nodded his head and moved the vases back on the cart he was pushing around.

I breathed in deeply as he pushed the cart away. This was supposed to be Queen Mirabelle's job, but she had fallen ill a few days ago of a fever and requested that I fulfill her job for her. Of course, I obliged. This was Royal Weekend, so dubbed by the Illéan public, when most of the world's leading countries met together for a weekend of meetings and dealings. To the Illéan public, this was a weekend of displays of power and might of intelligent and wise leaders. But to the Royals, this weekend was more like a political _Mean Girls_ movie. It was common knowledge between Royals that Empress Biyu of New Asia despised King Jacques of France with all her might because his brother left her cousin alone at the altar without warning, ultimately betraying the New Asian Royal Family. But that wasn't the only drama.

Queen Fiorella of Italy was visiting without her husband, King Giannini of Italy, who had also fallen ill like Queen Mirabelle — a distant cousin. Instead of being accompanied by her husband, the King, Queen Fiorella brought her paramour Sir James Laurel and her seventeen year old illegitimate daughter Lady Sienna Laurel with her. The Italian Royals were a touchy subject that no one wanted to address, other than Queen Mary of Greece. The wildly religious Greek Queen held no secret of her hatred for the Italian Queen and her paramour, considering the relationship blasphemy. Neither of them could stay in the same room long with each other. But that was nothing compared to the hatred the de Monpezat family of Swendway harbored against Chancellor Thomas of The German Federation and Levi De Vries, The Netherlands' Diplomat.

The German Federation and The Netherlands were the only two major democratic countries in all of Europe. Not a constitutional monarchy, they had disposed of their Monarchy over twenty years ago. The simple existence of that type of government was threatening to the country's' neighbor, Swendway, whose citizens had been moving towards democracy for years since it had become reestablished in Europe. The thought of democracy was terrifying for any powerful monarchy. Fear was the reason why Oceania, a country and entire continent which had become completely democratic over fifty years ago, was forbidden from attending these meetings on Royal Weekend. Since they were simply no longer Royals. If The German Federation and The Netherlands continued making their democratic impact, we suspected that Swendway might call for their removal from the Royal Alliance.

Currently, Illéa was the most powerful Royal country in the world. We were the leaders of the Royal Alliance and the world's superpower force. Thus, the Ruler of Illéa would be the most powerful leader in the entire world. Just the thought gave me tremors, thinking of all the power and the weight it held. We were at the tip of an iceberg and it was Illéa's job to make sure the world didn't fall off. The next King of Illéa would be in charge of conducting many years of this international policy. With an underlying, more important task, of regulating the spread of democracy and not allowing any other countries to fall victim to its tantalizingly promising grips.

"You!" I called, snapping my fingers at a passing servant. He walked over and bowed, bringing with him a cart full of pink suitcases. "Are those bags Princess Tatiana and Princess Alena's luggage?" The servant nodded and gave a small 'yes, sir'. "Good," I said, "please send them to the room across from their booked room. The room had a pipe leak, we need to switch their room before they arrive from Russia. The new room should have a plaque on the door." The servant nodded once again and went back to his previous position, rolling the heavy metal luggage cart back to where he came from, likely to inform the other servants of the change in room. I frowned after him, thinking about the Russian Princesses. They were now orphans, as the Tsar and Tsarina had bit the bullet a few years ago — literally. Princess Tatiana, the Crown Princess, would come to her throne on her twenty first birthday, which was a few months from now. But the Russian people were notorious for hating their monarchy. It was the reason the Tsar and Tsarina were murdered in cold blood without any backlash from their own subjects. There was a fearful suspicion that the Russians might soon try to dispose of their monarchy for good and turn to democracy.

 _Where was my damn sister?_

I sighed again and pinched the bridge above my nose. Gwen was understandably not happy — her future husband, although not if I could help it, was arriving today along with the rest of his family. King Lysander, the Crown Princess Viola, and his younger sister Princess Blanche. The English Queen, Lillian Windsor, had died when the Prince and Princesses were very little along with a stillborn child. The eldest, Princess Viola, claimed to be the only one who could remember their mother. But even she was only seven years old, so the memories must've been fleeting. I had only met the English Royals a few brief times. But now it looked like we were soon to be in-laws by marriage. Of course, not if I had anything to say about it.

* * *

"There you are!"

Gwen turned around, surprised. She was standing on a pedestal, getting a dress fitted for the meetings. This was the big day, the day we were announcing Gwen's engagement to Prince Tarquin of England. She wore a blush pink dress, which made her seem younger than she already was. Although Gwen had height on her side, she remained with childish features. She hardly looked like the young teenager she was, hardly then a future bride.

"Ren? What are you doing here?" She asked, waving off the tailors surrounding her and stepping down from the pedestal. "I thought you were still managing the set ups for the arrivals."

"I am," I said simply, "I just wanted to check in make sure that you were doing alright."

Gwen's expression softened. "I am. It's just hard with all this attention that's going to be on me once this whole thing is over. When are they getting in, again?"

I looked down at the watch on my wrist, reading off the time. "It's a quarter to two now, so they should be arriving any minute. Along with the Russian Princesses, they should be here around three o'clock."

Gwen's ears perked. "Is Princess Alena coming too? I thought she was supposed to stay back in Moscow."

I smiled at my sister, the younger Russian Princess was a friend of her's when they were both younger. Before the Tsar and Tsarina were assassinated and the Russian Council thought it would be better for the princesses to stay in Moscow under constant protection. "Yes," I answered, "the Russian Council thought it would be good for both of the princesses to come to this year's meeting. Alena is only a year younger than you, right?"

Gwen shook her head, her chin in her hands as she sat down in a chair and put her elbows on the table in front of her. "No, we're almost the same age. She's just five months younger than me. But she looks a lot younger. We're the closest in age besides Princess Blanche of England, but she's two years older than both of us." I nodded absentmindedly until I felt a light buzz on my wrist. Looking down, I saw an alert message on my watch. My jaw dropped as I read the message. "What is it?" Gwen questioned, noticing my change is attitude. She tried to peer over the table to read the message in red print on my watch. "What happened?"

"The English Royals arrived ten minutes ago," I said, shocked by the turn of events. "But Caspian, who was supposed to be in charge of welcoming them, wasn't there so no one could tell me they got here. And during that time, the Crown Princess Viola managed to get herself _lost_ and now no one can find her. To make matters worse, a smoke alarm went off near the West Wing gardens and I've been asked to check it out since they don't believe it's a fire. But because there are no _servants_ free at the moment."

Gwen laughed humorlessly, and said, "I guess you have a real shit show on your hands, brother."

I scowled back at my watch and snapped it closed. " _Language_ ," I reminded her, "you should get back to your fitting since they just arrived. I have to go take care of this now."

Gwen ran a hand over her face and peeked between her fingers at me before pulling back and sighing to herself. "Have fun, dearest brother, and look for Princess Viola while you're at it." She paused and thought to herself with the slightest knowing smile on her face. "Because I seriously doubt she truly 'got lost' in the palace."

"Thanks for the advice," I grumbled back, staring down at my watch. Contrary to my tone, I was honestly considering Gwen's words as I left the room in search for both the West Wing Gardens and perhaps the Crown Princess of England. Viola had spent more time at the palace than any of her siblings, abet when she was younger and before the death of her mother. She probably knew the palace just as well as any of the Selected, based on her memory. Although Princess Viola was the most notorious of all her siblings for her partying, drinking, and smoking. Some, including my own parents, questioned if she was even the best fit for the English Throne, considering her unstable nature. Those same people were also likely boosting Prince Tarquin as an alternative option to the throne.

* * *

I found a small door in an old corridor that lead to the West Wing Gardens. As I opened the door, light poured into the dusty room I stood in. But immediately as I stepped outside, smoke filled my lungs. It wasn't the smell of a campfire smoke, a contained warm fire, or a building fire, that kind of destructiveness. Instead, the smoke was uncomfortably strong and lingering. The kind of smoke that creeped up on you in dark alleyways or from deep inhales after a long day. _Cigarette smoke_.

"Princess Viola? I know you're there."

"No you don't. That's such a quick assumption of you."

Her accented voice lingered in the air like rusty velvet. Not a deep voice, nor high, it was an almost melodic sound. I couldn't see her but I could hear her take another deep inhale of her cigarette.

"Those aren't good for you, you know," I said, sighing. I walked around the corner of a cobble wall with rose vines interweaving, finally spotting the small blonde princess. Her blue eyes were closed and her head was rested against the cobblestone building. Her once-long blonde hair was cut into a messy long bob, which rested naturally in wild waves.

"I knew that three years ago. It didn't stop me from starting to smoke then."

I stared at her, not believing this was the girl I once knew as a child. "What happened to you, Viola?"

She sighed and took a deep inhale of her cigarette, opening her vividly blue eyes and staring forward with an intensity which didn't match the rest of her body. "Everything, Ren. Everything."

"Princess Viola? What are you doing here?"

I turned from staring down at Viola to meet the surprised eyes of Margarita Atlas, the daughter of the Ambassador to England. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a bun and her startled brown eyes shone bright.

Viola, on the other hand, didn't move from her position in the slightest. "I'm smoking a cigarette, why do you ask, Marga?"

The taller, older girl sighed and placed her hands on her hips. "Your family is looking for you. _Viola_ , you can't just run off like that."

"Why not? I'm an adult. I don't need a babysitter," the nineteen year old retorted without a care.

Marga tossed her head back and took a deep breath, muttering something about 'a royal pain in the arse' before making up her mind and marching over to Viola. She grabbed the smaller girl's hand and snatched the cigarette out of it, tossing it onto the ground and stomping on the small white roll of tobacco.

Viola scowled and snatched her hand out of Marga's grip. "Hey! That costed good money!"

"Please, one box probably costed you six pounds. You can afford to buy another box, but I'm sure you have enough to smoke a pack a day in your bag."

"Not at all true," Viola mumbled to herself as Marga grabbed her arm again and pulled her up to her feet.

"Look me in the eye," Marga said with a steely gaze, "don't run off again any time during this weekend or I will demand a mandatory search of all of your bags until every last box of cigarettes is gone."

"You. Can't. Do. That." Viola shot back with gritted teeth, but for a split second she looked back at me in question.

"Actually, considering you are a guest in my country, I can give Marga permission to mande such a search." Viola growled. "It's for the safety of all our Royal guests, of course."

Marga shot Viola another look. "See? I told you, I have the power here and I'm willing to use it to put you in your place."

Viola huffed and threw her hair back. "This is demeaning, I won't stand for this."

"Too bad. You should have thought about that before acting like a Royal pain in the arse."

* * *

 **Hey guys, I'm sorry this is so short but I promise the chapters will start getting longer again. In all fairness, I did update twice a week, so that's something. On a side note, this chapter is basically "part one" of the Royal Weekend chapters. So Chapter Twenty Three will be longer and have the bulk of the drama. This is only part one! Thank you to all my readers and reviewers last chapter and please don't be afraid to tell me what you think. It makes my day whenever I get a new review! See you next week for the next update!**


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

Save Yourself

Save yourself

Little girl,

stop waiting for someone

to come rescue you

You are on your own.

\- Josephin August

 **Caspian Valencia**

My hands were tied.

No, not literally. Figuratively. In the sense that I had many responsibilities but I preferred to not complete them. For one, making sure Queen Mary of Greece and Princess Maja of Swendway didn't crash into Levi De Vries, the Netherlands' Diplomat, or Queen Fiorella of Italy and the rest the Italian family. Perhaps I was also supposed to greet King Lysander of England and his brood of children at the front door. I couldn't remember.

"So you're telling me that you've _never_ had a hamburger before?"

Lady Sienna Laurel smiled meekly. "We don't have hamburgers at the palace in Italy. It's considered Commoner's Food."

Winnie fell backward on her elbows, looking at Sienna mischievously. "Then call me a commoner. I can't live without my hamburgers."

Sienna laughed, a light, ringing sound. She was only seventeen, a pretty girl by any standards. She looked like her father—his delicate facial features, eyes, and coloring. But she had her mother's hair and lips. Although she retained neither of their personalities. The Italians were vibrant and vivacious, while Sienna was otherwise shy and contained. If any, she resembled King Giannini the most in looks and personality. A strange coincidence considering she was illegitimate. _A mockery of the Italian King_ , some called it. Alas, King Giannini and Queen Fiorella had no children, and it was rumored that King Giannini was sterile, as the condition ran conspicuously throughout the Italian royal family. So Queen Fiorella found pleasure elsewhere, not uncommon in royal circles, although the Italian Queen displayed her far-younger paramour more than others typically did.

Sienna glanced down at the watch on her tiny, pale wrist. Like her father, she was pale and thin, with sea glass eyes and walnut brown hair. She was more petite than both of her parents, four inches shorter than even her mother. "We should get going," she said, brushing leaves off her pale purple dress and standing up. "The meetings are starting in twenty minutes. My mother will want me with her before she goes in. You know how she hates these meetings." Sienna laughed again. As quiet as she could be at times, she had her mother's laugh.

Winnie's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "But aren't you a Royal? Aren't you going to be attending the meetings?"

Sienna's composure turned stiff. She must've not realized that Winnie didn't remember what she was. "I'll be with my father...who's, well, not the King of Italy."

Realization swept over Winnie's face as she remembered and her cheeks turned pink in embarrassment. "Oh, right, sorry. I forgot. It slipped my mind."

Sienna smiled slightly, softening up again. In the commonplaces of Illéa and most other countries, the terms "out of wedlock" and "bastards" were not used to describe children born to an unmarried parent. Illéa had long ago repealed its rule that children born "out of wedlock" and unmarried mothers were no longer to be sentenced to any sort of punishment. Over those years, most of the stigma to unmarried parents and single-parented children has practically disappeared. The only place where that stigma remained was in upper-class circles filled with trust funds and, most importantly, inheritance. Unmarried parents were perfectly normal — but illegitimate children were often treated like the plague. Especially within Royal circles, where there had always been a stigma against illegitimates due to the delicate line of succession. Royal Illegitimates, like Sienna, were permitted to stay at the residences of their powerful and wealthy parent and even sometimes given titles, also like Sienna. But they would always be looked down upon, cast out like trash once their Royal parent died. No longer, if ever, given even the least of the privileges that their legitimate counterparts received.

Such scandals of illegitimacy were more uncommon in Illéa than over the seas. Our monarchies were built on secrets and a slow accumulation of power, not sexual scandals. Although, that didn't mean the Illéan Royals were completely virtuous. In some ways, I was no different from my European counterparts.

"Let's go."

Prepared for hell.

* * *

"Viola, will you _please_ be quiet."

"Shush, Alysson, it's a free country."

"This isn't even your country," Princess Alysson of France whispered harshly, her nails digging into the wooden table beneath her fingertips.

I sat next to the pair tiredly, my punishment given by Warren for not showing up to welcome the English royal family. Sitting next to the bickering pair of Crown Princesses. Viola's punishment, for apparently smoking on palace grounds, was sitting next to the regal, dignified, and annoyed Princess Alysson of France. They sat on my left side, and to my right sat Empress Biyu of New Asia. In her simple but elaborate scrawl, she took notes in her native Japanese. Unlike most other members of the New Asian royal family, Empress Biyu was raised and educated in Japan instead of the mainland China. There were only rumors to the reason why, but some speculated that there were threats posed to the then-Princess Biyu if she took the throne as a woman. But eventually the threats were quelled and she took her throne, as far as I could remember from my history lessons.

Currently, Chancellor Thomas Waltz of The German Federation was giving a long, boring speech that bored everyone except for the steely-eyed Queen Mary of Greece. She was angered by everything, from the lilacs in her suite not being the "correct shade of purple" to the democratic German Chancellor trying to make amends with a room full of terrified Royals. Chancellor Thomas wasn't going to win this battle and he knew that. But when the next Royal country fell to democracy, be that Swendway, The Russian Federation, or all of New Asia — The German Federation would be there to pick up the pieces and create a stronger country in its grasps. Almost devious really.

I mindlessly clicked my pen, bored out of my mind. All the way across the room sat Warren and Lochlen, right next to each other. Their alert eyes were keenly watching Chancellor Thomas, jotting down notes along with the rest of the room when deemed necessary. The Chancellor was now talking about potential trade deals with The Commonwealth of Oceania, one of the countries that first discarded their monarchy. Of course, The German Federation wanted a trade deal with Oceania, one of the largest countries on Earth and a democratic one. Personally, I didn't get how Oceania was considered so powerful. It was just a bunch of islands pushed together into one country, better known as a whole continent. As a child, I was forced to memorize all the different regions and states of the region. Australia, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea, Tasmania, Marshall Islands, Hawaii, Fiji, and all the others.

In my opinion, it was stupid.

 _Why couldn't everyone just get along?_

I had been slowly drifting off for the past thirty minutes listening to the leaders argue. The heirs were never really supposed to talk, and most of us didn't really take it seriously, like Viola and I. While those like Alysson and Warren strived to be the picture-perfect heirs that all parents wanted their children to be.

"Alice, poppet, be a darling and grab me a bottle of water."

" _It's Alysson to you_." The blonde French Princess whispered, nonetheless reaching back to grab a bottle of water from a table behind us. "And you, Caspian, please wake up and pay attention."

"I'm not sleeping," I grumbled into my hand, rubbing my face in hopes of rekindling my energy. "I don't like staying in one place for so long."

"We have ten more minutes in this session, then a break." Alysson reminded, straightening her navy blue blouse down her short, skinny frame.

"Fine. Who's next on the chopping block?" I asked, prepared to see how much power napping I could fit into a two-hour session of arguing.

"You."

"Me?"

"You—as in your country."

"Right." I leaned back in my chair with a face devoid of emotion. This was the Schreave family's big moment. Little Gwendolyn was now officially getting engaged at the age of fourteen, or however old she was now. She was a quiet girl as far as I knew her, demure in front of the cameras. Gwendolyn would make a fine English Princess, but she was young. Child engagements were not as common as they once were, although no better way to announce the turn of events with a splash. My thoughts carried me through the rest of the session and onto the little bell ring signaling that the session was finished and the Royals filled out into a different room for refreshments and the occasional interview with the press in a separate hallway.

At the moment, the twenty-two-year-old Crown Princess of Swendway was giving an interview in rapid Finnish with one of the Swendway press members. Maja was a tall, slender woman with classic Swendish good looks, in addition to her imposing presence. Being two and a half years older than me, we didn't talk much as children. She was never fond of doing anything remotely Illéan. Winnie and I called her the "Ice Princess" as children whenever she wasn't around. Raised as an only child, with a brother eight years younger than her, unlike the majority of Royal heirs. The Northern Royals tended to keep their heirs singular and protective. But in the business of inheritance, having a backup heir at hand was an unfortunate necessity. Heirs were trading pieces used for power and business, especially during times of political tension or war. The latter was far from true at the moment, but there was plenty of the former.

A soft bell rang once again, signaling that the twenty-five-minute break was over in five minutes. Next was the last session of the day, Illéa's turn to make a powerful impression. I wouldn't be saying a word, apparently, I wasn't trusted enough not to embarrass our _great country_ due to "past mistakes." Clinking drinks were placed on passing servants' silver trays as formal-wear-clad Royals exchanged eye contact and took their seats once again. In the center of the room was a currently unoccupied platform, lit with stage lights beaming brightly. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Gwendolyn Schreave enter the room, shielded protectively by her elder brother. It was uncanny that they were siblings, from their stature to their hair, the only difference being gender, height, and eye color. Gwendolyn's dark brown eyes shined up at her brother with a weak, uneasy smile that revealed her true emotions. Anyone who looked at her like this couldn't help but feel bad, I was not excluded.

Duke Hendrix and Duchess Angelica entered after their children, walking behind the pair and placing a hand on each shoulder. Their faces stoic and their minds made up, prepared for a power move. Across the room, I saw my mother and father, clearly unhappy. The Valencia family wasn't technically English, although Odelia was likely English by some percentage. _Valencia_. We were Spaniards. But I knew the whole history of the Revolution and the murder of the Valencian Queens—nevertheless, the thought itself made me uncomfortable. The elder Queen was, by birth, an English—then British—Princess, and her murder made the English unsurprisingly angry. Both Queens were murdered by the Schreaves, but any Schreave would deny the accusation. A Schreave girl marrying an English prince, simply unimaginable two hundred years ago.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The fourth session of the day will be commencing at approximately 5:15." The loudspeaker announced in a neutral tone of voice. I nodded to myself and looked up at the digital clock on the wall of the dark grey boardroom, which read 5:13 PM. I released another sigh, entirely ready for this day to be over with.

"You Illéans have horrible tea," said Viola abruptly. She plopped down in the seat on my right, taking the seat that belonged to Alysson. The French Princess scowled and sat down in Viola's chair, facing away in passive aggressiveness.

"Clearly you've never tried Iced Tea. A true delicacy of the South."

Viola cringed. "That sounds even more disgusting. You're supposed to drink tea warm. Boiled in a kettle and poured using a teapot into a cup with a tea bag, thank you very much."

"You English are obsessed with your tea. Be careful or you'll boil your brain instead." I joked, laughing softly at her pouty expression.

"Be quiet, the session is beginning soon," Viola responded grumpily. I couldn't help the laugh that came to my lips as I turned back around and readied myself for the session.

The Schreaves walked up to the platform, donned in their expensive jewels and finery. Truly playing the part of Royalty, which they would soon all be by marriage in a few years time. Gwendolyn wore a pendant on the lapel of her tailored shrug, small but unmissable. The pendant of the English Royal family. I shrunk back in my seat as hushed whispers filled the room. Levi De Vries looked concerned above all else, while others, namely King Jacques and Queen Virginie of France, looked more confused.

" _But she is so young_ ," whispered Queen Virginie in French to her husband, a few seats away from me. King Jacques didn't verbally respond but shared her now-concerned look. The French were not big on arranged marriages, especially child engagements at that.

"Welcome back ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us in the last session of the day," said Duke Hendrix, his tone cool and collected. "My name is Hendrix Schreave, Duke of House Schreave. I am joined by my wife, the Duchess Angelica, and my two children. My eldest and heir, Earl Warren Schreave. And my daughter, Lady Gwendolyn Schreave."

Warren gave a stiff bow, which Gwendolyn followed with a nervous curtsy.

"As many of you are well aware of, my heir Warren is currently participating in the long-time Illéan tradition of the Selection, where he is expected to find a bride by the March Equinox. The Selected are presently being hosted in the palace, enduring tests and trials to determine who shall be the best for the role of the Queen of Illéa."

I sat up straighter at the sound of the Selection. Did he really mean that? Were we expected to find a bride to marry in the next four and a half months at the most? I couldn't even think of who I wanted to eliminate next, much less marry.

"But my daughter, the Lady Gwendolyn, has recently celebrated her birthday."

 _Yeah, only now fourteen years old_ , I thought to myself as I listened to Duke Hendrix avoid stating or acknowledging his young daughter's age.

"She has matured into a beautiful young lady of the court that we could not be more proud of. Gwendolyn has shown to be wise beyond her years and possess a maturity and disposition that few could ever hope for."

 _Way to lay it on._

"Gwendolyn has promised to defend and care for her country in every way she can. That is why we are happy to announce the engagement of Lady Gwendolyn Schreave of Illéa to Prince Tarquin Windsor of England on this very special day in history."

Polite applause filled the room as individuals whispered to each other in a dozen more languages than I could ever hope to understand. Soon emerged Prince Tarquin from the sidelines, and the eighteen-year-old walked up to gently ask for Gwendolyn's hand. She timidly accepted as they stood together on the stage platform.

"Pardon my asking, but Lady Gwendolyn is fourteen years of age, is she not?" Levi De Vries asked roughly, standing up from his chair.

Uneasy, Duke Hendrix answered. "Yes, she is. But they are only engaged for now. They will not marry until Lady Gwendolyn turned eighteen, I assure you."

Levi De Vries was still not satisfied. "Pardon me again, but doesn't this arrangement sound like something from the Middle Ages?"

Duke Hendrix tensed. "Yes, the marriage is arranged. But both parties have agreed to the concept."

"Even your little girl?" Levi De Vries asked again. "In these days, the consent of a parent is not the consent of a child in marriage."

Duke Hendrix placed a hand on Gwendolyn's back. "I am her father, I know what's best for her. Gwendolyn has agreed to the terms," he shot back.

"Really?" Levi De Vries questioned. "I don't believe I know a single fourteen-year-old who would willingly throw away her childhood to get engaged."

Behind Duke Hendrix and Duchess Angelica, who was slowly approaching her husband by laying a manicured hand on his shoulder, was Warren and Gwendolyn. Warren stood protectively over Gwendolyn, who still held Prince Tarquin's hand, the pair of whom looked quite uncomfortable together.

Lowly, the Schreave Duchess glared at the Dutch Diplomat. "This will be longer, separate discussion. Within Illéan law, it is legal for a child under eighteen to become engaged with the consent of their parents or guardians. A child may not be married until their eighteenth birthday, thus making the engagement legal. With the legal consent of the current rulers of Illéa and of England, Prince Tarquin and Lady Gwendolyn will be wed on the day of her eighteenth birthday."

Levi De Vries collapsed back in dismay, the expression on his face clear that he was appalled by what he was hearing, but knew he had lost today's fight. I could have almost laughed at him. He was obviously not as fluent in foreign history as he might have wanted to brag. The Schreaves had a tradition of marrying young, around the turn of the younger's eighteenth birthday. Princess Cecilia Schreave, the last Schreave Royal of a hundred years ago, married her suitor Sir Easton Parsons in a turbulent Selection long passed only a day after her eighteenth birthday. _The Weekend of Lights_ became famous after their marriage. A birthday, a wedding, and a coronation over the span of three days. A weekend still celebrated to current day. The Schreaves did make their fair share of contributions—in history.

Gwendolyn Schreave was stuck in the marriage. The only way for her to escape her engagement was for either the head of House Schreave or the ruler of Illéa to disband the engagement. As both rulers were aware of, none of the three Candidates for the Crown of Illéa approved of the marriage of young Gwendolyn Schreave. But typically, heirs did not inherit their parents' crowns until the age of twenty-five. At the least, it was five years away. In five years, Gwendolyn Schreave would turn nineteen-years-old and had been married to Prince Tarquin for just over a year. It was too late for Gwendolyn Schreave and she knew it. She was all by herself with no one to save her.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

A Breeze of Autumn

and if you are to love,

love as the moon loves;

it does not steal the night—

it only unveils the beauty

of the dark.

\- isra al-thibeh

 **Lochlen Illéa**

I took a deep breath, exhaling softly. The air was crisp and cool under the night sky, the temperature dipping into the mid-60s during the night as the colder months began. Although dark clouds whirled through the night sky, the moon shone clear and bright. A passing breeze brought a chill to my senses and I felt the air on my arms stand up. I attempted to rub the goosebumps on my arms but the air remained chilly. I stood on the stone marble balcony of the ballroom, built on a stone platform only a few feet off the ground. Ahead of me were the gardens, which normally had a sweet scent wafting through the air from the blooming plants. But now the leaves on trees had turned a riot of different colors—gold, amber, bronze, caramel, crimson. Falling to the ground in swirls as the autumn breeze passed. The flowers had died and would have been weeds underfoot if not for the gardeners' careful eyes to pick out the dead plants and trim them into nothingness. But the dark night sky kept the array of colors nothing but dark shadows under the bright moon.

The air outside was chilly and brisk. I stood at my lonesome next to one of the many evergreen topiary trees that lined the edges of the balcony. My body was shrouded in shadow and chilliness, separated from the warm light that radiated from inside the ballroom. Few ventured out of the palace halls during this time of year unless to view the beautiful autumn foliage. But during nighttime when the trees were shrouded in shadows and the beautiful dying leaves were no longer visible, few were interested in the beauty of the autumn night. They remained indoors under the protection of the palace walls, sipping hot apple cider until their chests flushed in warmth as they gossiped harmlessly about the various young ladies vying to become Queen. Choosing their favorites based on their beauty and intelligence. Imagining future little Royals someday bouncing around the palace during another brisk autumn night.

A faint sound of laughter drifted in the air from inside the ballroom along with a pair of footsteps tapping on the marble floor. I turned around to see who was approaching the balcony, spotting the pair of girls in flowery gowns talking intently with each other.

" _Did he?_ " Marga gasped, a hand over her mouth in clear shock. "But wouldn't he be breaking the law by asking you that?"

Nymaria stood by her side in a strikingly red gown, smiling earnestly. " _He did_ ," she confirmed in a low whisper. "We had talked several times before. We met during Caspian's birthday when we danced together. Since that party, we've run into each other somewhere in the palace almost every day!"

"And you haven't been caught?" Marga asked, raising an eyebrow as they continued walking towards the edge of the balcony. They were so swept up in their conversation that they hadn't noticed me yet, standing to the side and out of the light. Although I knew it was wrong, I couldn't help but listen to the conversation.

Nymaria blushed as brightly as her gown. "It's not like we've _done_ anything. We just...talk. And get to know each other. Tell each other stories about what we were like as kids. That kind of stuff. He's like a friend, a close, really close friend. Actually more than a friend. But—but not like that!"

Marga still looked suspicious. "So you're telling you guys haven't kissed?" She questioned intently. Nymaria didn't immediately respond, diverting her eyes over the balcony with a guilty expression on her face that she tried to hide. Marga gasped again and grabbed her friend's arm, steering her face towards her own. "Nymaria, that's illegal! Do you know how much trouble you both could get in?"

"It was barely a kiss!" Nymaria insisted, raising her voice to almost a shout. Her cheeks flared red again and she lowered her voice, saying, "I don't know what it really was, but it wasn't nothing." She turned away from her friend and put her elbows on the edge of the stone balcony, resting her head in her hands as she groaned. "We have...I don't know what it is…something like _chemistry_. He's so nice and funny, and he says he loves to listen to me talk about all the places I've been. He makes me laugh and smile. I can't help but feel happy when I'm around him." She smiled to herself for a second, before her expressions turned dejected again. "Marga, this what I entered the Selection for. For love and for fun. And now I've found him, and he gives me both." She sighed and looked up, gazing over the gardens. "I know it's wrong and it scares me to know what happens if someone finds out. But it scares me more imagining that I had the chance for love but I didn't take it."

"Oh Nymaria," Marga said softly over the whistling wind, "I'm so sorry. How could this have even happened to you?"

Nymaria let out a soft laugh. "I wanted to fall in love with a Royal. And I did. But I fell in love with the wrong one."

Marga smiled at her friend affectionately. "So close yet so far."

"I just had to fall in love with his brother," Nymaria complained about a laugh.

"Unlucky you," Marga joked, then becoming more serious about an important question. "And no one else knows? Besides him?"

Nymaria nodded solemnly. "Just the two of us. And I'd prefer to keep it that way. Who knows what might happen if this gets out."

Silently, I slipped away behind a topiary tree into the main hall. Weighted with illicit information of a forbidden love affair.

* * *

"You should go dance."

"But I don't want to dance

"You should dance with Carnegie."

"And why should I do that?" I asked sullenly.

Allegra slammed down her drink on the bar and glared at me. "Look, is there a reason why you're acting so sulky all of a sudden? Because you weren't acting like this during dinner."

I placed down my drink as well, albeit less harshly, and faced Allegra's glare. "I'm tired," I retorted sharply.

"Bullshit," a voice said, laughing.

"Georgie." Allegra rolled her eyes. "What a time to finally show up."

The smaller, light-eyed girl grinned. "I'd never miss a party. But you Royals throw way too many parties. What is this one even celebrating?" Georgiana looked over the crowd, spotting all the warm brown and orange decorations, with pumpkins scattered around the ballroom like glitter. She fit right in with the decor, wearing her dark plum silk dress with nature embroidery that her maids, likely with many trials, managed to get her to wear.

Allegra gave me a look, also wondering what this party had to be for. I laughed and said, "it's the Autumn Festival. Most people don't celebrate the seasonal festivals. I think the only one most people still celebrate is the Winter Festival. But for us Royals just see it as another opportunity to show off our wealth."

"Perfectly convenient that this year's Autumn Festival is scheduled right at the end of Royal Weekend, isn't it?" Georgiana remarked nonchalantly, taking a swift drink of the liquid in a cup she carried with her.

I caught a whiff of her drink. "Is that coffee?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "This late at night?"

"Black," Georgiana answered, shaking her cup. "Come on princeling, it's almost the end of 3029. Let loose a bit. Take some risks."

I laughed. "You're one to talk about 'letting loose'."

Georgiana narrowed her green-gold eyes. "I can let loose. Probably more than you can, _Prince Loch_."

"Really?" I teased.

She shot me a competitive grin and took a large drink of her coffee before banging the cup down onto the unoccupied bar we stood next to. "Watch me," she said with a cutthroat look. Her eyes surveyed the audience of people in front of her, stopping when she caught a glimpse of a familiar golden head only a few feet away from us.

"Conwyn," Georgiana shouted loudly.

Cashel Conwyn turned around, his eyes lighting up once they landed on Georgiana. Behind him stood his younger sister Emerald—Emmy—Conwyn, who snickered at her brother for his obvious crush.

"You."

"Me?" Cash looked surprised and slightly frightened that Georgiana was suddenly paying attention to him.

"Yes, you." Georgiana put one finger on his chest. "I want to dance."

"With me?" Cash asked, surprised again.

"Yes, you. How many times to do need to say that?" Georgiana rolled her eyes again, grabbing his hand and tugging him onto the dance floor. Cash followed her lead, not before shooting us a frightened but excited look. Allegra and I laughed watching the couple dance. Cash was half a foot taller than Georgiana, so she only came up to his chin, but they fit nicely together as they danced. Cash looked unbelievably excited as the realization set in that he was dancing with the girl of his dreams.

"What a heartwarming sight," Allegra hummed with a grin.

"I agree," added the red-headed Emerald Conwyn as she walked up to us, keeping watchful for her brother. Her long, wavy ginger-red hair was draped over her right shoulder and her dark brown eyes were fixated on Georgiana and Cash dancing. She smiled at them. "They're cute together. I like her—Georgiana. Very no-nonsense and she definitely makes Cash happy."

 _He makes me laugh and smile. I can't help but feel happy when I'm around him._

I took a sip of my own drink and smiled at Emmy's observation, shaking off all other thoughts.

Allegra laughed. "Now if only Lochlen here could get enough courage like Georgiana to ask someone to dance. Then he'd be set—hey!"

Allegra whirled around and shot a dark look at the tall, dark-haired man who stepped on the train of her dark purple gown. Frightened, he quickly apologized and rushed off. Satisfied, Allegra crossed her arms and turned back to Emmy and I.

"I can't believe it." I laughed, looking after the familiar man who had just rushed away.

"What?" Her dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. "That I got annoyed with the person who almost ripped my dress off by stepping on the train? I'd bet you would have plenty of fun dealing with that if he ripped my dress."

I stifled enough laugh. "You scared off the future Prince-Consort of Swendway."

Allegra's widened, unbelieving. "I did what?" She looked at Emmy for an answer, but she only laughed.

I gestured to where he ran off to. "That's Prince David, the fiancé of Princess Maja of Swendway. They're due to get married in June next year. So when King Erik and Queen Anna of Swendway die, Princess Maja will take the throne and Prince David will become Prince-Consort."

"I know how the line of succession works, it's not that ha—" Allegra responded, waving my words off. But she stopped in the middle of her sentence and had a realization. "Oh my god, I just glared at the future ruler of Swendway," she said, shocked. "Why am I such a mess?"

"Pray that you never become Queen someday," Emmy joked.

"Eliminate me now before I accidentally discover the Queen of Italy is having an affair," Allegra said sarcastically, taking another sip of her drink.

Emmy and I exchanged eye contact knowingly, but we both mentally decided against telling Allegra the truth about the Queen of Italy's affairs until another time.

"We should go dance too," Emmy insisted. "Unless Lochlen is too shy," she teased.

I feigned disinterest. " _I_ don't take orders to dance from a person named after a rock," I said, doing my best imitation of Winnie.

Emmy rolled her eyes. "My name is Emerald. My sister's name is Ruby. My brother's name is _Cash_. My father had a theme in mind and he kept it. This is what happens when your family is in charge of all the mines in Illéa," she explained with a grin.

"If you have a child please name it Chrome Diopside and I will do whatever you want for a month," Allegra swore satirically with a hand over her heart.

"A deal. But only if you agree to name your first born child Fexofenadine," Emmy offered in return.

"Done," said Allegra as they shook hands.

"Now what was that about dancing again?" Emmy reminded tauntingly.

I chuckled and shook my head. "Fine, I give in. Do with me what you will."

"A new song should in a minute or two, we can join them," Allegra noted, listening to the classical musicians play their instruments.

"Formalities, formalities," Emmy said lightly. "We should ask a few people to join so we have an even number of people to dance with."

"Agreed," said Allegra, searching for another person to join our dance. She swayed off a bit, towards a group of Selected girls gathered together talking. "Hey, Carnegie! Juliette! Haneul! Do you want to dance with us during the next song?"

The three girls turned around and all three smiled. I felt a blush flush on my cheeks when Carnegie caught my eye.

"I'd love to," Juliette answered with a wink.

"Me too," said Hanuel, ruffling her gown out. "I haven't danced formally in a while. It'll be good practice."

Carnegie nodded in agreement, a faint blush on her pink cheeks when our eyes diverted. "Should we ask Lilly to dance too?" She asked her two friends. "She's been dragged around by the French Princess all night. I think she deserves a little bit of a break." She laughed softly and looked over where Lillian was currently entrapped by Princess Alysson in a game of cards alongside Princess Blanche of England. And she sure didn't look like she was having fun, but it looked like she was trying to keep up a happy demeanor in hopes of not offending the two Princesses.

Haneul laughed, and said, "I'll go ask her. I'm sure she'll say yes."

And without fail, Carnegie and Haneul were correct. Lillian looked extremely relieved and immediately dropped her cards, although first stopping herself to thank and apologize to the Princesses for letting her join their game and for her leaving to go dance. While thanking Haneul profusely once the Princesses were out of earshot, the tall brunette walked over to us with a relieved smile on her face.

Lillian reached for Juliette's hand and hugged it affectionately to her chest. "Thank you so much," she said in a voice full of genuine gratitude. "I couldn't escape with seeming rude! And they were both so good at cards," she exclaimed, "I didn't—couldn't win a single game. Not once!"

"Listen!" Carnegie exclaimed joyfully as the new song began playing. She closed her eyes and hummed along to the beautiful new song that was played by only the pianist and the violinist. She opened her eyes and gazed up at the stage where the musicians were playing. "It's _Uso to Honto_ , composed by Masaru Yokoyama. I love this song! We have to dance!"

Carnegie, Juliette, Haneul, and Emmy all walked on to the dance floor and swayed as they caught the feeling in the rhythm. I smiled as I watched them. But I felt a faint pressure on my back which urged me forward. I frowned and kept my place.

"Oh for Heaven's sake," said Allegra as she shoved me forward.

She was strong, without a doubt. I stumbled forward, only regaining my balance once I had stepped into the dance floor. While steadying myself, I raised a hand to fix my hair but accidentally knocked on the shoulder a blonde Selected. She turned around with her mouth in an 'o' shape. She took my hand in her own and placed a hand on my shoulder. Automatically, I closed my hand around her's and placed my hand on her hip. Before I could realize what was happening, we were swaying to the music.

"Sorry," I apologized quickly, "for knocking into you."

Carnegie laughed softly. "No trouble. Now we can dance together."

"Yeah," I responded with a smile on my face as I looked into her olive green eyes. Everyone around us had paired up, regardless of gender. Georgiana and Cash were still dancing together, and Cash looked happy beyond belief. It seemed that Warren has swooped in from somewhere to secure a dance with Lillian, and they were now laughing and dancing rather clumsily together. It looked a little out of character for Warren but he seemed happy with his predicament.

"Wow, isn't that night sky beautiful?" Carnegie said breathlessly as she looked out the bay windows that lead to the balcony, which had now closed to keep the cold air out while we danced. "I love the nighttime during autumn. It feels so refreshing and calm. Not warm or cold. It's like peace."

"Will you go out on a date with me?"

"What?"

A mad blush filled my cheeks. _What was I thinking? Springing something on her like that?_

"I—I mean yes! I'd love to!" Carnegie insisted, nervously laughing. "You just caught me by surprise! I'd love to go out on a date with you."

I couldn't help the beam that came to my face. "Thank you," I said with a broad smile. "Two days from now? Once the palace has been cleaned up and everything has settled down?"

"I can't wait," said Carnegie as she beamed in return.

"Neither can I," I promised, hugging her closer as we danced.

We danced and danced and danced, listening to only the music and each other.

So enthralled that I almost didn't notice Nymaria Casil of Dominica disappears down a corner with a shadowed figure. A lone secret reminding me of the weight on my shoulders. I turned back to Carnegie with a silent promise. _Once the Selection is over, no more secrets_.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

Swords & Sun

you came into my life

and rearranged everything

and left before

i even had the chance

to ask you to stay.

\- AVA

 **Warren Schreave**

 _Click._

My digital watch read _29 September 3029_ , today's date.

 _Another click_.

Now it read the time. _2:28 PM_.

 _Click_.

The weather forecast. _Sunny. High 85°f._

Without a doubt, I was feeling the heat. September nights were cold, but the days were still fading reminiscences of the sweltering summer. Grumbling, I switched my watch off and stuffed my hand into one pocket.

"Number _346_ , your drinks are ready," called the barista, her brown eyes peering expectantly over the drinks in our direction. I managed a smile and went over to get our drinks, flanked by my two bodyguards. I thanked the barista and walked back, although keenly aware of the sheer amount of looks I was receiving, I ignored them. But one person that was very much not ignoring them was Titania Baudelaire of Carolina. She clearly enjoyed the attention she was receiving next to her favorite celebrity. With a skeptical smile, she eyed the drink I was handing to her. Taking the drink into her own hands, we began walking again.

"So what is this called again?" asked Titania as she scrutinized the cold pink drink in her hand. "I've never seen it at any of the coffee houses I've been to in Carolina."

I took a quick sip of my cold green drink using the straw before pointing to the top of the menu. "It's called bubble—or boba, whichever one you prefer—tea," I told her. "I got us fruit teas with tapioca pearls, those are also called boba. Chewy and soft, you eat them through that big straw." I shot her a grin, aware of the cameras following my every movement. "Originally from Taiwan, it's become an Angeles classic over the years."

Titania beamed, holding up her cup in the light to admire it. "Wow, isn't that amazing! I have to get a picture of this for my blog!" She held her drink high in the air as she fumbled through her purse to find her phone. I couldn't help but crack a grin at the sight. She was cute. Her hair's natural auburn highlights glimmered in the bright light and tumbled over her shoulders while she searched through her large purse. "Found it!" She cheered happily, throwing a fist in the air, victoriously holding her phone.

I couldn't help the blush rising on my cheeks when I noticed a sticker of my face on her purple phone case.

Titania held up the cold pink drink in the air and opened the hologram on her phone, clicking the camera symbol. The neon blue camera frame lit up brightly, the picture fading in and out of detail until finally focusing on the drink. The camera adjusted to the perfect level and dimmed the lighting to take the picture. Her phone camera flashed to get the picture until Titania seemed satisfied with the result.

"We should take a picture, too," she suggested, her pale cheeks flushing a little from the sun.

"Oh, alright," I told her uneasily. I didn't really like taking pictures of myself, but Titania seemed so happy that I didn't want to disappoint her by saying no.

Titania smiled brightly. She lifted up her phone once more and I leaned down slightly to fit in the frame of the picture. I smiled into the adjusting lens. In a flash, she clicked the button and took the picture, then put her phone back in her purse, and smiled up at me.

"So where are we going next?"

And off we went.

* * *

"Wow." I stepped back, stunned. "You beat me again!"

Titania laughed at my exasperation and placed her water gun back on the table. "One more round?" She offered with a cheeky grin. She'd already collected three prizes, which laid on the counter, perhaps taunting me. Two small stuffed bears—one brown, one white—and a neon red blow-up sword.

I sighed, knowing very well that I would only lose once again to her. "Well I'm never one to back down from a competition," I conceded honestly, shooting her a grin. "So I promise I'll try my hardest."

The grin on Titania's face only grew as I nodded to the guards beside us to hand the man behind the counter another forty Illéan Marks. The pale man smiled devilishly and put the marks in his pocket. Titania and I went back to our places behind the water guns and prepared to compete in the game for the last word of victory. I could've sworn we both took in deep breaths at the same moment, but I was too focused on the game at hand.

"Step right up!" He shouted, substantially louder than needed. But neither Titania or I reacted more than staring stoically at the laughing, painted clown in front of each of us. Titania's clown had a face painted white with bright, sloppily-painted red lips; while my clown had a worn blue face with a wide, green mouth. We both gripped the handles of our water guns and I released the deep breath I'd been holding in preparation.

"Three. Two. One…" the man counted down loudly. "Go!"

Franticness washed over me and off we went. I was overcome with a familiar thrill. I pushed all other thoughts and images out of my mind and focused on my target. The water sprayed out of my water gun towards the clown's round mouth as the balloon above its head slowly filled up with water. My heart soared as I felt victory in my grip. I was so close to winning, just a little longer!

 _Ding! Ding! Ding!_

"And we have a winner," said the man behind the counter as he clicked the button on the counter that stopped the flow of water. I stepped back from my water gun, confused, as my balloon hadn't finished filling up yet. I was only a few seconds away from success. Suddenly the reality hit me. I turned to look at Titania's balloon—and it appeared she'd won again.

Swallowing my pride, I turned to face her and managed a smile, saying, "congratulations, Lady Titania. You bested me once again."

Titania grinned proudly at her victory. "Good game," she said happily, offering a high-five that I half-grudgingly accepted.

"You can pick a prize now," said the man behind the counter, gesturing to the display of stuffed animals, plastic toys, and blow-up toys.

"Hmh…" Titania thought, "I think I'll get another blow-up sword. The purple one, please, sir."

"Right away, ma'am," the man working the station responded, grabbing a step stool to reach the blow-up swords hung up on the wall. He grabbed the purple one and jumped back down, handing the sword to Titania.

"Thank you!" Titania beamed as she took the sword. As soon as she took the plastic toy, she swirled around to me. A serious look fell over her face as she raised her hand holding the purple sword.

"What—" I began in confusion.

"Get on one knee like a knight," Titania ordered with a playful glimmer in her eyes.

Rolling my eyes and stifling a chuckle, I followed her orders. Titania drew her blow-up sword higher above my right shoulder and began. "I dub thee—" she gently rested her blow-up sword on my right shoulder, then raised it, "—Sir Warren Schreave—" the blow-up sword was placed on my left shoulder then raised once again, "—of the Water Race!"

After she drew the blow-up sword back, I stood up and laughed. The cameras surrounding us flashed as they caught the moment between us. I had almost forgotten the camera crew was still here.

"Thank you, Lady Titania," I laughed, "where should we go next on our quest."

Titania beamed—she really did have a beautiful smile—and spoke, "we should look around some more. Maybe try out a few more games or go on some rides?" she offered.

"Sounds good," I answered.

Titania nodded and spared a glance towards the cameras trailing behind us as we walked. "Is the camera crew going to be following us for the whole today?" she asked.

I sighed and looked at the cameras as well. "Hopefully not the whole day. They just need enough video to piece together an hour-long episode. We're only one part, though. I think Caspian is on a date with Lady Kazue. Lochlen's probably doing something, too. I don't know exactly what yet." I paused, thinking. "It's less complicated than it sounds. There's just a lot going on right now."

"Ah," she murmured, her eyes drifting to her feet.

As the air grew with a layer of uncomfortable tension, I quickly looked around for a game, or a ride, or something to distract from the camera crew watching us patiently.

"Oh! What's that game?" I said, slightly dramatically. Titania looked up and looked at where I was pointing. I picked up the pace to walk closer to the game stand, Titania trailing behind me.

" _Pong-A-Palooza_?" Titania questioned, clutching her blown-up sword.

I squinted my eyes to read the sign. "It's basically beer pong. That's what the sign says."

Titania's eyes widened in horror. "There are _children_ at this boardwalk," she whispered frantically.

I stepped away from the game, realizing the true meaning behind the game I had suggested. It wouldn't look good for a future King to be playing beer pong at a boardwalk frequented by children. "I agree," I said, cringing.

"Oh! Look!" said Titania brightly, switching the uncomfortable topic and drawing my eyes away from the boardwalk games. "A haunted house!"

My face immediately paled.

 _No. No. No. No._

"Uh, maybe not?" I attempted to suggest awkwardly. "The camera crew can't really follow us in there. We could look at some other games—"

"I haven't been to one in _forever_ ," Titania gushed. "I used to go haunted houses all the time with my brothers back in Carolina!"

"Oh, really?" I mumbled difficulty as Titania began leading our camera crew and me to the haunted house. Hoping that the fear on my face wasn't as evident as in my mind. Titania turned back to look at me with a big smile on her face, but it soon fell as she noticed my uncomfortable expression. Clearly, my attempted façade had failed.

"Is something wrong, Warren?"

I struggled with decided whether to tell her the truth or not, but the words seemed to unintendedly simply slip out of my mouth.

"I'm exactly not a big fan of the dark."

A beat passed.

Titania's expression softened. "It's okay," she said gently after a pause. "My brother, Copper, used to be scared of the dark too. He never really got over it, now that I think about it, but he did manage to learn how to fight his fears. It's a learning process."

My face burned hot. "I'm not scared of the dark—I just disliking _being_ in the dark."

"As I said," stated Titania with a slight smile, "it's a learning process."

I offered her a measly smile. "Alright. I'll go in. But...no cameras?"

Titania beamed radiantly. "No cameras! Just the two of us!"

Although I tried to fight it, I couldn't help the words that came out of my mouth.

"Can I kiss you?" I asked, much to her surprise.

Titania blushed deeply. "Yeah," she said lightly.

My face flushed as well in response. Gently, I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. An innocent kiss. After, we both pulled back and smiled at each other.

"So, that haunted house?" Titania suggested with a brilliant smile twinkling on her lips.

"Sure," I agreed while grinning, "I can't think of a single thing to be scared of."

* * *

 _For reference:_

 _$1 USD = 4 Illéan Marks_

 _$5 USD = 20 Illéan Marks_

 _$10 USD = 40 Illéan Marks_

 _$20 USD = 80 Illéan Marks_

 _$50 USD = 200 Illéan Marks_

 _$100 USD = 400 Illéan Marks_

 _This chapter brought to you by being sick with the flu for three weeks, my laptop dying, and because the Chinese New Year got me hyped. Also, boba. It's good._


End file.
